That would have been his name. That was his name, the baby I lost at 11 weeks old. The baby that was only the size of his own baby bootie when I held him in my hands. A dear friend told me about Baby Loss Awareness Week which I think ended yesterday. I usually am behind when it comes to these things. I’m glad people are talking about it. I’ve run out of things to say but I still cry every time I think of Leo, every time I think of miscarriage and baby loss and even sometimes when I see a baby or a grown up boy. My husband and I hardly ever talk about it and it is always one sided…he just doesn’t have anything to say, the emotions are still too strong.
These are the tangible things I have to remind me of Leo…his baby booties that a kind friend gave to me, a necklace that Riona made for him, my ultrasound images and a letter to him. I can’t open that box still without crying.
