I'm up late, listening to your little brother sleep, thinking about you. Eight years ago tomorrow was my due date with you. If all medical predictions were correct tomorrow would have been your eighth birthday. You would have been five months older than your cousin. You have two baby cousins who are only months apart and your auntie take pictures of them together to see how they have grown up together. Your auntie and I should have been able to do that with you and your cousin. I should be planning your eighth birthday party. Instead I'm at your cousin's second birthday, holding back tears until your brother and I get in the car to drive home. Your brother fell asleep very quickly and I think about what it would be like to have two of you. Two sleeping children in my backseat instead of one who knows of his sister and talks of her often. He knows you died in mommy' belly and he asks me all the time if we can get him another sister named Kaorie, like you. My heart is broken today and everyday without you. Mommy misses you more than you will ever know. I can't believe you would be eight, it seems like yesterday I found out I was pregnant with you and your father and I were so excited. We told everyone within days and weeks later we found out you were gone. Those were some of the happiest weeks of my life and turned into the worst weeks of my life. If I could change anything it would be to ask them for a photo of you, heartbeat or not. I would frame it and put it on the wall next to all the pictures of your brother through all the years, like any proud mommy would. 
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