That happen to me, with this photo.
 |
| march 2011 |
There's my little baby Holden, not even a year old but already a big brother. There's my little baby, frozen in black and white.
My little baby that never came to be.
My little baby that I lost a week later.
When we lost this little person, our second lost, I thought I got rid of every photo, the actual ultra sound, everything that could make me remember.
I didn't want to remember, to remember the shock when I found out we were going to become a family of four.
I didn't want to remember calling family and friends.
I didn't want to remember that ob appointment. The one when they couldn't find a heart beat right away. The one when they tried to tell me it was okay, but I knew. The one when the image of my baby, frozen in time, was glaring from a screen.
I didn't want to remember the feeling of knowing I had lost my baby two weeks before.
I didn't want to remember the life that slipped through my fingers.
I didn't want to remember how desperately I thought that little one was my daughter. How it felt to loss my chance for pink tutus, sparkly shoes, and hair bows.
Honestly, some days I still don't want to remember. It still hurts, not in such a cutting way, but in an aching kind of way. There are some days that the memories knock my breath from my chest. The days that my eyes fill up to the breaking point.
Those are the days, that I thought wouldn't be around still.
Those are the days that I think will be around forever.
