Behind Enemy Lines

I have found myself getting increasingly attached to battle/war analogies when it comes to my experiences with infertility and pregnancy loss.
My husband would be the first to admit that I know almost nothing about modern warfare, but have read enough history and watched enough movies about less-modern warfare to know one thing: I feel trapped behind enemy lines.
Thankfully, I'm not alone.  My husband and daughter are with me and so are a couple hundred people who I have never met in real life.
This morning I was under pretty heavy fire.  My day went a little like this:

0515 Night of restless sleep ends and DH and I talked and held one another, crying.
0600 Showered and got dressed.
0620 Woke up our 7 year old and helped her get ready for school. This really meant I gave her a hug, asked her to put on short sleeves instead of long because the weather is supposed to get warm, then approved her decision to heat up her leftover mexican food for breakfast.
0645 Ate two M&M cookies for breakfast
0720 Gave DH a hug and kiss goodbye as he walked our daughter out the door to the bus stop then left for a short day at work.
0730 Woke up our 3 year old and helped her get dressed.
0745 Let her have the last cookie for breakfast.
0820 Easily convinced her to crawl in bed with me and watch Despicable Me 2 with headphones while I curled up next to her while holding Jackson's blanket and cried.
Kept crying and drifted in and out of sleep
0850 Alarm goes off to remind me to take my antibiotic. Do this and crawl back in bed.
0900 Decide that crying is getting me nowhere and get up and get on facebook
More crying.
1020 Call DH and ask if we can meet for lunch
1100 Day starts to improve--even the jeans I had overnighted fit really well (thank you Levi's for being consistent with your jean sizing!!)

So yes, my morning was rocky.  I wasn't surprised, by the timing, but the size of the ache caught me off guard.  I MISS Jackson.  A lot.

I'm left wondering, "How can I miss someone I only really met for a few minutes and who I could only half see through my tears?"
It wasn't a few minutes.  This little boy has been a part of my life for years.  My husband and I used to joke about having an heir and a spare because he's the only son of an only son and has nobody to carry on the family name.  Those years of joking are LONG gone.  Even with talk of a son so far in the past, Jackson was with me constantly since the moment of his conception back in November.  Our bodies worked together all those months to help him grow and something went wrong.

I miss that dependent relationship.
I miss his kicks.
I miss the feeling of completeness.

It hurt when my 3 year old tried to talk to her brother today by touching my belly and saying, "I miss you, Jackson".  When I told her he was no longer in my tummy, she said, "Well I still miss him."

Yes, sweetie, I miss him, too.