Two mornings ago, I woke up to a quick kiss from Tyler. With my eyes still closed I rolled over to face him, and even in that moment of morning breath and bed head he told me I was beautiful. This always causes me to pry my eyes open, just a teensy bit to see if he’s even looking at me. He always is, and has the biggest smile on his face. That man truly loves me, and I love him.

He asked me, as always, how I slept. I told him I had nightmares all night long. Even Tyler’s contagious smile wasn’t enough to shy away the previous night’s dreams. We’ve been visiting funeral homes and cemeteries in preparation for what lies ahead, and that night I had had a dream about Amelia’s funeral. It was vivid and so very real to me. But while one usually wakes up from bad dreams, I woke up to the realization that this one wasn’t going away.

It’s terrifying, picking out a grave site and a casket and a headstone. And seeing the other babies in the cemetery made it all too real. It took everything in me to keep from crying during our visits. One of our options is to bury her along a row of other infants and children, and amid oak and various other shade trees on the grounds there is a random palm tree not too far off from that spot. I don’t know what it’s doing there, precariously in the middle of that Los Gatos cemetery. And I don’t know what we’re doing for burial plans, but I’ve felt particularly drawn to that palm tree ever since. It’s a reminder of how far we’ve come already in this journey, and how far we still have to go. It’s a reminder of our beginnings in San Diego, where Amelia first came to our family.

We got to see her on an ultrasound yesterday, our last one. She wasn’t cooperating much with her head deep in my pelvis, but we got a few shots of her profile. This little girl has got Jack’s beautiful button nose! I used to think all babies looked alike until I had one of my own, and discovered they are vastly different and unique. I think it will be fun when Jack is older to show him how much she really does look like him, and that she’s one of us. She’s a Jones.