My First Daughter - a sad post

I am going to preface this post right now: this is not a happy post. If you were looking for something more like my normal stuff, skip this one and come back another time. Please.

Tonight, I was watching a season finale show with my mother. In it, an adoptive mother and the bioligical mother lost their child. That is, until the last thirty seconds, when his blood mother (in this the adoptive mother was true evil, like literally an evil queen from a fairy tale) gave him a kiss and told him she loved him. Which broke the curse over the entire town and brought him back to life. This was a true love's kiss you see. And that's enough.
Except on July 24, 2007, I lost my first daughter. I gave her body a thousand kisses, and told her I loved her more times than I can count. Why wasn't my curse broken?
This is something I have wanted to post about so many times. I am not going to go into the details. All I am going to say is that on July 23 2007 I was informed I had lost a child.
I am really realizing for some reason, in the last few months, how much I never let myself mourn her death. Small things bring it back like it's happening to me now. Only those closest to me, until now, have really known. Now I guess I need to tell the world, at least the small portion of the world I can reach.
Madeleine Anne, my first daughter, passed away.
Lately, I literally can't go thirty minutes in any single day without thinking of her. For someone like me, who has a documented anxiety disorder, this is debilitating.
But this is me.
I don't know what else to say, but I've wanted to share it with anyone and everyone.
Madeleine Anne Gonzalez, who never had a proper funeral, I miss you. Your sister Magdalena is asking who the baby is in the photo in my bedroom. She is wondering what is in that pink marble container.
I realized the other day that she has never, ever been for a walk. Felt the sunshine. So if you live in my town and see me in the next few days walking around with what looks like a square piece of marble, you know why.