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I long to have gotten the chance to hold her in my arms, kiss her little nose and blow baby raspberries on her little cheeks. I wanted to get up with her for late night and early morning feedings. I wanted to walk the floor holding her close to me because she was cranky. How I long to lay her upon my breast, smell that baby scent of lotion, powder and formula, and let her hair tickle my chin. Now every year I silently celebrate what was to be her birthday while at the same moment count each heart breaking year. My baby is gone without even being here.