The last few days have been hard. I don’t know if there is a particular reason or not. They just have been. Our church festival was this weekend, and it’s always a busy time, but with Steven and I taking on some responsibilities that we never have before it made it even more challenging. We were sitting in Mass Saturday evening and I found my eyes welling up every time a mommy passed by our row with a new baby. I ran into friends at the festival with teeny tiny ones, or who are pregnant and expecting babies in a few months, and something in me hurt. Then I looked at the calender and realized we’ve hit the three month mark. It’s been three months since we lost our little angel. Three months since they were born into heaven, and for the first time in a while I really felt the loss all over again. I would be 6 months. I’d have the baby bump. I’d be looking all cute in my maternity capris and big chunky jewelry, cause that’s always fun when you’re pregnant. I’d be posing for those belly shot pictures, and planning where baby was going to sleep. And instead, I’m watching friends do those things and it makes it feel even more real what I’m not doing. I realize that everything happens for a reason, and that God had a plan for this little one that I will never understand in this life. But right now, I wish things had been different. I wish I’d be getting ready to hold my little one, instead of feeling so empty. And it sucks!