It just doesn’t get easier. I had my baby and my baby is gone. I can’t get my baby back.

I was so stressed that morning it happened. Rushing out the door to make Pilates with a disagreeable 2-year-old, snapping at my husband and anxious to get to the studio then on a conference call in time. Adrenaline was pumping through my veins. That evening, brown blood. I knew. I knew you were leaving. In my heart, I knew. I woke up to rushes of blood.

As I lay in the ultrasound room waiting for any news, knowing it was bad, I promised you if you stayed with me and I got to take you home, I’d do better. I’d be better. I’d be less stressed. I’d slow down. But it was too late. You were already gone. And now there is no getting you back. A piece of my heart left with you, I don’t feel whole. The pain is still as real and sharp as it was on that day. I thought it would get easier.



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