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I imagine him with brown hair and blue eyes, getting the eyes of his aunts and uncle. He would be tall already, like Eliana. Maybe he would be the out-going child, the one that smiles at every stranger at the grocery store, like Hadassah. Most likely he'd be kicking a soccer ball, the way Wyatt did at such a young age. And he would have been well cared for by his big sister.

But I can merely speculate about how Ezekiel would be on this day, waking up to unwrap his presents the way the kids do. I can hear his little voice calling from the crib, "Mama". And he would smile as he approached his high chair, seeing presents and balloons.

But this morning it's Cassidy who wakes up, by herself. She says, to me "Yay, Mama makes breakfast," and the excitement of a birthday barely hangs in the air, but it's too high for us to enter into it.

Two years ago this was a beautiful day. Nine of the best days as a family. Lots of kisses and smiles and poopie diapers. I wish we could go back...