I sit and I think of what ‘should have’ been. I wish I could rewind time, to go back to that dreadful day of our ultrasound and change the facts. I picture that day like it happened today. I wish the ultrasound tech would have turned to us with a big smile on her face and announced, “Well, it’s a healthy little boy!” Instead, it was silence. I just want to go back, to rewind to the day my baby died, somewhere around 14 weeks. Can’t God just save him? I want him! I’m so empty, so very empty. The pain inside of me is so deep, the emptiness unbearable. I think, “I ‘should’ be 20 something weeks” and I try not to think of how I’d feel our little son kicking. I cannot even rest my hands upon my stomach for that pain, emptiness rips at my heart. I know there’s a reason. I know God has a plan but I still question, “Why?” I often wonder if I did something wrong, ate something bad or just plain didn’t eat right at all. Yet I know that it would have happened regardless of what I ate or didn’t eat, because it was all in His plan. But again I ask, “Why?” I can’t seem to get past the whys or the emptiness or the pain of it all. I lie in bed looking at Abby and thinking how I’ll never get that with Nathaniel. I want to shout, “IT’S NOT FAIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Sometimes I want to shout to the world how unfair it all is. They’re living life, going about the day to day, while I’m hurting and missing my son and my pregnant belly. To those who don’t even know I sometimes want to say, “Do you know my baby died and I’m hurting? Can you help me?” Even now, with my house full with my children I sit and think how it ‘should’ be fuller. We ‘should’ have two other children running around and I ‘should’ be waddling around in anticipation of our new one. And yet here I am. Stuck. Stuck in my pain, held in my emptiness. I know God is here, right here, holding on to me and carrying me and yet I just don’t want to give Him the pain, I don’t want to accept the fact that this is really happening. Because then what? People will say to ‘move on.’ I will never ‘move on.’ Sure, I’ll slowly move forward at some point, but for now…I am here in this spot.