September 21st

Every year as September 21st rolls around, I find myself picturing what my kid would have looked like now. She would have been eight on the 21st.

I lost Sasha due to a miscarriage while I was visiting my parents back in India. It was my first pregnancy, and this devastated me as I was older when I got pregnant. As I sit here with a lump in my throat, which is a common occurrence around this time, I often wonder what kind of child my Sasha would have been. She would have been eight tomorrow, celebrating along with her great-grandfathers birthday.

My emotions regarding her have always been extremely private. I mourned for her alone, and I find myself crying often around this time by myself. Even though I never got to see her at all, I have this image of her-a spunky little fire-cracker. But then again, I currently have a spunky little fire-cracker of my own now. I cannot pen exactly what I feel, but anyone that has suffered a miscarriage would probably understand.

Some people find it strange that I buy a cupcake in her memory every 21st September, and they don’t understand why I don’t just move on. I have moved on, but not according to the way society thinks I should. I keep her memory alive, because the sound of that heartbeat is a life that was very dear to me. I love that I can celebrate this with my son, and he knows that Sasha was the big sister he would never have. And he also knows that she probably protected him, when I almost lost him too.

So to my little Sasha: as you celebrate your eight birthday with your great grandpa, I wanted to let you know that we love you and miss you. So till we meet…

Happy Birthday my fire-cracker!

Your Mommy.