The day I learned I was carrying you, I became your mother. The euphoria I felt with this knowledge was akin to what I felt when I first held your siblings. You were the missing piece in our family, but at 8 weeks your heart stopped and the lights went out. Nobody understands like I do how you can miss someone you’ve never seen. Today I stood alone at your unmarked grave, a secluded mossy place in the woods, and placed a white rose. Your little brother kicked up a storm in my womb, but it doesn’t yet feel the same. No one can ever replace you and the happiness you brought me.