To my best friend’s baby, whom she will never meet

There are moments when words are all you have left to give.

I bought you an outfit. It has a hat shaped like a fox head with bottoms that have a little crocheted fox tail. It’s the cutest thing. I got mad at myself yesterday because I keep forgetting to give it to your mom.

I know it’s on the table next to my desk right now but I cannot bear to look at it.

I was about to find out this week if you were my nephew or my niece. I thought nephew. No…I knew.

I bet you didn’t know this but you helped me get through a memorial. Your parents came just when I needed them.

We compared your little developing body to fruit and inanimate objects. You were an apricot. You were a lemon. A toy solider. A tiny red macaroon.

Your parents told me all your potential names. I made fun of some. But really, they were good. You would have had the perfect name.

I laughed with your mother. Put my hand on her belly when I was sad. And again when I was happy.

I laughed with your mother. Put my hand on her belly when I was sad. And again when I was happy.