10/03/2026
We were your parents, and you will always be our first.
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My wife and I had an anembryonic pregnancy.
I never thought that it would actually hurt. I told my wife it's like being cut by a shard of ice. You know what, how, when, and where it hurts, but you've got nothing to go back to or get back at. Nothing to blame. Nothing to avoid once the shard has already melted.
We've already imagined and prepared a life with you, even if we had no idea of what or who you'll be. Maybe that's on us. Maybe not.
I've already imagined attending to you at 2 in the morning. I've already said yes to the sore arms and consistent 2-hour naps until your next cry. I've already imagined a sore shoulder after carrying you around while walking. I've already said yes to your first steps and words. We've already said yes up until the day you deem that you don't need training wheels anymore, and beyond.
But I guess until we meet you and your future sibling/s, we'll mourn and miss you.
I've been putting off writing and drawing about you, but as your dad, it's gonna be a disservice to you if I don't.
Your mom and I assumed you're gonna be a girl, so we decided to call you Hannah.
We love you.
Always.
All ways.
All our days.
