Dear Andrew,

I know it has been awhile since I have written but I think of you multiple times a day and have regular conversations with you in my head.  Oddly enough, I talk to you like you are an adult rather than a baby or the 18 month old that you should be. 

How exciting would this time of year be if you had lived?  How exciting would it be to have an 18 month old and a 5 month old to celebrate Christmas with?  Would you understand what Christmas means?  Would you cry when we brought you to see Santa or would you be excited?  How would you be with Liam?

We brought your little brother to see Santa for the first time yesterday.  While we were visiting, Santa asked if your brother was my first.  For the first time since we lost you I just said yes, that your brother way my first.  I know I hesitated, just that second too long, while I decided what my answer would be.  And once I answered him I felt the veil of grief envelop me again.  It's funny how such a simple light hearted question can throw me back into the darkest corner of grief.  This person's innocent question made me want to scream. 

Will all of Liam's firsts be tainted by what we missed with you?  Will this chasm of longing for your presence ever get smaller?  How is life so cruel that we never got to experience any of these things with you? 

Christmas should be a happy time of year.  And this year is infinitely easier than last year but will never be as happy as it should be.  It's a holiday that is best when seen through the eyes of a child.  But all I can ever think about is how I will never see this holiday through your eyes.  You will always be my missing child which will always make this time of year that much harder. 

I cried for you yesterday in a way I haven't been able to in awhile.  I felt the pain of missing you more sharply than I had in awhile.  And part of me was glad of it.  It meant that you were still a part of me.  That you hadn't been forgotten in the mundane everyday. 

I miss you every day.