Lost

When I was younger, my mom used to tell me about my sister. Yes, I have a sister, but she was talking about the sister that never made it the full pregnancy, never even made it long enough for my mom to realize she was pregnant again. I was a few months old, probably three at the most, and my mom miscarried without realizing she was pregnant. She told me about how the fetus was only as big as a fingernail, and she said a prayer as she buried my sister. I know that at that stage you can't tell the sex of a baby, but I still believe, firmly, that it was my sister. I always wondered what it would have been like to grow up with a sister that would have been closer to my age than David is. So many "what ifs" ran through my head my whole life.

Now Morgan's going to have to go through the same thing that I did.

I don't even know what I'm supposed to do. I don't want to tell Jesse, especially after everything we've been through. But I don't want to go through this by myself again. It's too much. Twice in the last two years. What is wrong with me? I'm glad it happened, but another little one that never lived to see the sunlight. Too young, too innocent.

I can't bear this loss anymore.