Today will mark the beginning of our forever together or the beginning of a difficult goodbye. If it is the former, I will start first by thanking God, then kiss my husband, then finally allow myself to picture our lives with you. If it is the latter, I will start first by thanking God, then I will take all the strength in my body and send it with you as you go to see Him.

Either way, I never want to forget these last eight days when, for better or worse, I believed you were mine. It might’ve been in my head, but it was really just in my heart. The feeling wasn’t complete joy–there was still too much uncertainty for that–but it was something so beautiful. I can only describe it as fullness. The hollowness that’s been within me was filled, and–more than anything–I felt a calm that I’ve been so desperate for.

I never want to forget the feeling of waking up and placing my hand on my stomach, imagining you just beneath it. I never want to forget the warmth in my heart when your daddy would talk to you through my skin every morning and every night–as if his voice could will you into existence. I believed him–I hope you did too.

I never want to forget the feeling that everything I was doing, I was doing with you. That I was eating for you, sleeping for you, hurting for you. It all felt so much easier when you were mine.

I never want to forget any of it because, if storms should come instead of sunny skies, I want to remember what I’m doing all of this for. For the day when one of your siblings will be mine forever. For the waiting and heartache to end and be replaced with the peace I’ve had these last eight days.

I want the memory of these moments to keep me going.

But, my dear, if it’s true. If you are mine really. If you are mine forever, no power in this world will keep me from you. I pray for today. I pray for us and for you. Only time will tell now, my little one. I hope to see you soon.