Lily

Chris and I have been together for over three years. I could never picture a life without him now. I knew the second we met that we were bonded for life. Our worlds shifted and everything changed but we both still had pasts and neither one of us to this day has managed to close every wound. He knows all of mine, he knows which ones are closed and which ones still reek havoc. My miscarriage was six months before we met. I forget when I told him of it the first time but it wasn't too far into the start of things. We've spoken about it a number time over the years but it's always hard. I'm defensive and emotional and quick to clam up. I feel like I've processed it and moved past it but if I were, I wouldn't get aggressive. The other night we talked about it again. I brought it up. Because I needed to know that I wasn't crazy. I saw my daughters face in a dream. She looked about the age she would be now if I'd had her. I saw us together. We were happy. An image I would've thought would be heartbreaking, seeing what I can't have, it was the complete opposite. This dream has brought me so much peace. Because in a way, she lived. She is growing up and she is happy and she is with me. Maybe not here with this version of my conscience but somewhere. With some version of me. But I still didn't have a name. It wasn't complete without the name. I told I didn't know her name, nothing sounded right. Lily. That's all he said. And he was right. Her name is Lily, she is my unborn daughter and she lives in me.