We called him Junior..

One and a half inches big, half the size of my index finger, beginning to take form. A mass of cells or a newborn soul? I struggled with this thought for weeks. Am I supposed to love him? I suppose I didn't at the time, not as much as I do now that he's gone. It was only upon realisation at the extent of his development that I really began to love him. But it was too late for love, he was gone, captured by the blizzard and taken away. Torn out of his snug cradle without warning and pulled into an unfamiliar machine so cold and foreign. And now he lies somewhere.. in a jnr dumping ground? or respectfully laid to rest somewhere? I didn't think to ask of his fate. Why didn't I ask? Didn't I care? So consumed in my own pain, I didn't think of the undeserved pain I had inflicted on him..

I'm inclined to refer to him as a he.. I don't know why.. just one of those feelings. My little miracle. A product of our love. Half of each of us in literal union. When two become one, in more than just the sentimental romantic sense of the phrase. A sweet little bud waiting to bloom with beautiful colours. Unfortunately he was sown at an inconvenience, and his blooming had to be ceased, for reasons that are quite justified. Still, it's unfair that he had to exist in the first place without allowing him to progress to his full potential. I hope he forgives us.

I guess my regret is that I (we) did not pay him the attention he deserved while he was with us. Engrossed in our own activities, we failed to acknowledge him sincerely. I regret not telling him that I loved him. Am I being too sentimental? Would he have heard me anyway? Was he even a "he", or was it simply an "it"?

I do love him. And I pray that his soul, if he had one, is resting in peace.
You will be recreated little one, in due time..


-s