I feel so raw.
It’s like I literally just handed her back to Rose. Only this time there is no shock, no after birth high. Just pure raw pain.
A gaping hole where my heart should sit.
My baby is gone. She is dead. Her little body sits on a shelf beside my bed reduced to nothing but ash with little pieces of bone. My baby, my child, my daughter. My Annaleigh.
She is gone. And I don’t know how I’m going to make it through tonight. All I can handle is one breath at a time.
Instead all I can think about is everything I’ll never get to experience with her. My favorite thing to do is rock my babies. I never got to do that. I was numb from the chest down. I never stood up and held her. I never walked around swaying her. I was stuck in a hospital bed.
That same hospital that I walked out of empty-handed and in tears, instead of smiling and carrying my new baby.
One of the very last things I bought her was a car seat. I loved her seat. I’d searched and searched for the perfect one. And I found it, it was purple, had butterflies, and I loved it. Rylee was so excited when she saw it, we had to put her baby doll in it right away.
Her seat is one of my main triggers. Today was the last time it will ever be in my car. Today it got a new home.
Handing it over was my choice, I know it was the right one, I have no reason to keep it. She never used it, but I’m still so attached to it.
Just get in the car and don’t look back. Eric drove and I wondered how long I’d have to hold my breath before I passed out. Can you actually die from pain? It was as painful as handing her back.
Tonight I raw, I’m exposed, and I’m wondering how I’ll get through this next second.