It’s no secret that Dylan and I got married twice. (Ok, maybe it was a secret for awhile, but not from you all ) We eloped first and then had a big wedding later with family and friends. I often say that we just eloped with our parents. But that’s not true. There was one more with us on that random, sunny, 70 degree February day in Seattle. We had already put our deposit down for the big wedding in September, a safe enough distance from my June due date to account for recovery time. Yes, I was pregnant before we got married. (No, judgement is not welcome here) We decided to elope with our parents on our dating anniversary. Our parents were our witnesses and Adeline was alive and snuggled into my tummy Little did we know, the tears that sprung on that day as we said that “in sickness and health” line of the vows, would apply to the life of our daughter long before it applied to our own. I can’t recall how long before this day we discovered the complications, I do know the ultrasound was at the end of January. She came 11 days after our elopement, not 4 months later. She wasn’t with us at our big wedding as a little infant, but she was with us as we eloped. She will always be in our wedding photos. It’s hard to find gratefulness in such tragedy sometimes, especially when there’s not a lifetime of memories to remember but a lifetime of memories missed out on. I love that she’s in these pictures, alive. I love that I can smile at her memory even if it breaks my heart in a million pieces that’s all that I have of her; her memory. I am so proud that she’s the one to make me a mommy. I’m so proud she’s my daughter. I’m so proud of my bump, even though I didn’t get to watch it grow for longer. I’m so happy she is mine and I am so sad she is not here.