The night before the shit hit the fan, Christopher, Eliot and I had a prenatal/maternity/family photo session. We wanted some pictures like the ones we took when I was pregnant with Eliot. This time we got some cute ones of Eliot kissing my belly, all of us laughing and smiling and just being a family together. We were happy, providing proof for a future sibling that we were waiting and waiting for her arrival.
I got the link to the photos in my email 2 days later--and today I clicked on that link. The pictures were gorgeous. All of us so happy and just, well, EXCITED! My giant belly with the popped-out belly button, Eliot's little hands on my stomach, kissing his sister through my shirt. Christopher holding me, cradling my stomach.
We'll buy some of those pictures. I want them. They are some of the only pictures we have of me pregnant with Calla. I want to remember how happy we were waiting for her arrival. I want Eliot to see them and one day understand his sister was once here, waiting for him to be her brother.
I am lonely in the quiet stillness of naptime. I miss my little baby who used to keep me company. Oh Calla. Why?