I've been trying to start this blog for awhile. Actually, I've opened the startup page a number of times, unable to get past the "name your blog" requirement. Finally, here I am. Nearly ten weeks after the death of my precious baby I now have an outlet to vent, cry and hopefully relieve some of the tension built in my chest.
Today is one of the days I don't think I can do this. "This" meaning being a mom to a dead baby. Unfortunately, I have no choice. The events of the past few months have been, by far, the most intense and heartbreaking of my life. Somehow I am getting up in the mornings, existing through the day, and checking the box off the calendar as one less day I have to manage. As much as my husband M and I hurt, we can't stop the sun from rising and setting. The world keeps spinning, with or without us.
The events leading to our precious Charlotte's birth and death are long and complicated, which I'll save for another day. In so many ways I feel like I've carried this burden for years. In other ways, it feels like yesterday that I was still pregnant, anxiously awaiting our sweet baby, debating names and bedding sets in catalogs, picking out nursery colors, naively expecting everything to turn out just fine. Ha. I never expected the worst, I wasn't prepared for the worst, but here we are.
What a silly, silly girl I was. I miss her.
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