She is really gone. And it seems so final now. I mean I knew it was final , I held her for her only breaths, I held her when she was pronounced, I held her as all the warmth left her body and the coldness of death replaced it. I saw it, I felt it, I knew when she was gone. But it hasn’t really sunk in. I haven’t accepted that I won’t wake up from a bad dream, and I will still be pregnant.
But man 6 months. The 18th ment she has officially been gone longer then she was alive. Tomorrow is 27 weeks. I was only pregnant for 26weeks and 1day. That is like a punch to the fucking gut.
Walking down the hall and not seeing the room set up though, it helps. It is healing and heartbreaking all at once. It helps me to realize that she is gone. And that I’m really done having babies.
Eric finished the painting today. Tomorrow I’m going to put up happy wall stickers, and set up a giant play kitchen.
Monday I sold her towels, I was in tears before I made it back in my car. Today I sold the bottle sterilizer and gave away clothes I’d been saving for my future babies. This time I haven’t cried.
Healing and heartbreak, they seem to go hand in hand. You can’t have true joy unless you have been through true pain. Funny how all that works isn’t it.