It's been over 2 years now. Sometimes it hurts as if we lost you yesterday. Other times your absence is almost normal. Love you still with all our hearts.

It's April 7 at 12:29 am. In 15 minutes you would have been 3 months old. We miss you so much!

It's sunny today, warm too. This nice weather makes me sad because it tells me that time isn't stopping. I want time to stop. I don't really want to move forward in time and away from moments that I spent with you. I know I will never forget you, but I am afraid of not remembering details. Things like that get lost with time. When I was pregnant, you kicked from the inside so vigourously! We joked that you were going to become a soccer player or a kick boxer. At Christmas dinner Oma and our family saw you moving while we ate dinner. Your uncle was amazed! On New Year's Eve, our friends laughed as I relaxed on the couch while you very obviously squirmed inside me. That is all gone now. I wish so much that I could scoop you up out of your pictures and cradle your little body. You were very healthy right up until your cord detached depriving you of everything you needed to live. You were a little, chubby baby. Perfect and beautiful. Time will never stop so I am finding ways to make you come along in time with me.

I am told that this year will be a year of firsts. Everything is ... the first time since you died. This is the first spring since you died. I picked your sister up from school for the first time since you died and it made me cry. I had had visions of me carrying you in a baby sling to go pick up your sister. Last fall I remember thinking; It will be so nice to take you for walks once spring comes, i'll dance with you by the window so that you can feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, we'll go outside and i'll watch the faces that you make when the wind blows on your face... we cannot do those things now. I wish we could.

You were here for only 9 months. We only saw you the day you were born which was the day after you died. I miss you sweetpea!

Kai, my perfect baby boy. healthy and active, playful and strong. your 'energy' left before you could arrive. in grief and disbelief, numb and aware i delivered you, our precious baby boy. two weeks later, it should have been. ten fingers, ten toes, chubby cheeks, tiny nose. your body was perfect, but your spirit had gone.