It’s Sunday evening. We have had dinner and are relaxing contemplating the work week. Watching football. Just being quiet with each other. I absentmindedly placed my hand on my stomach…and I remember. I remembered that you should have been here. We should be busy making last minute preparations for your arrival. I miss you. This is the hardest feeling to explain to someone who hasn’t experienced this kind of loss. I never felt you move, didn’t get to know you but you were a part of me and I am absolutely aware of that part being gone. Most days, I’m ok. But sometimes, in the quiet times, I’m not.