The funeral home came in the middle of the night.
She was really gone.
I got up.
Every part of me screamed to wake up. This is not happening. I pinched myself but nothing. I was still there standing in the bathroom starring at my belly that less then 24 hours ago held her. At that moment you wouldn’t know. I didn’t look like I had just had a baby.
I was going home today. Home. Without her.
Rose was back, she brought in the molds of her tiny little feet, and our memory box. It has copies of her hand and foot prints. It had a card, a photo book, a bracelet with her name, a photo disk, some flowers and her little teddy bear. Rose added two more for the kids. We were given two blankets they had used.
We sent her rainbow blanket with her. I didn’t want her to be cold. I hated the thought of her being cold and scared. She was so little, she should be with me still. Not out there alone.
Oh God how do we do this.
How do we get through.
How can I walk out without her.
God if I can hand her back surely I can do this. One breath at a time. That is all I can do.
It was time to go. Everything was done. There was nothing else.
Eric went to get the car. Rose walked me down. This is it. I have to go home.
We hugged rose again and thanked her for being so amazing. She had loved our girl just like she was her own. She was the one who got us through. Our angel.
We got in the car and went home. Completely broken.