Stillborn - 91 days later - 3 months (I cry at restaurants)

Today we decided to get out of the house. You know, like we used to do BEFORE. Back when we were just Sonya and Tim, a married couple with no children. Carefree and could just go and enjoy.

It's different now. Everything is different now. I'm different, our house is different, Tim is different. Places I visit are split into a strange automatic question - The question says: The last time you were here were you pregnant? Was it before you were pregnant? Was it AFTER Faeryn was born? I'm not sure why this happens, but it is a constant. It's something that happens as I pull into parking lots, as I walk through doors. There is always a Before Faeryn and an After Faeryn. The hurtles are the ones where the last time I was there, and everything was okay. Those are my toughest ones. And then they turn into, Last time I was here was after she died. And that's how it will always stay.

We went out to eat tonight. Dinner and a movie at Tim's suggestion. This is something he loves, and I just like to get the hell away from my depressing house, so I'm game for anything.

We went to Outback. We've never been to this one. We bought movie tickets online with reserved seating and knew we had to be done eating by 7:00.
We were seated in the children's section.
No. That doesn't really exist, but if it did, that's where we were sat. Surrounded by toddlers and their parents. The past few days haven't really been AWFUL for me. I have days that I spend all day attempting not to cry, so I know what awful is. The past few days have been mediocre. I have cried. Once a day. And at this current time - 3 months into After Faeryn. I think that's pretty darn good. And by pretty darn good, I mean I could almost say I've been happy.

So we are sat and I look over and diagonal to my line of sight is a little girl. I would guess she's about 2. She has blond hair and blue eyes. She is very inquisitive and is waving and blowing kisses to her grandmother sitting across from her. I look at her mom, and she is blond, average to pretty. I look at the little girls dad, he is average to handsome and wears glasses. The little girl is standing between them smiling. You could feel the love the parents have for their child. They were smiling and paying attention to her. Including her into their discussions.
There were other kids surrounding us. Little boys and other little girls, but THIS ONE kept drawing me back to her. I saw the life in her little face. The life in her blue eyes. The tiny chubby hand as she blew kisses to her grandma.
She reminded me of Faeryn. Or should I say what my mind would make Faeryn look like at 2 years old. It also reminded me that I will never actually know the light in my little girls eyes, the smile on her face, I will never see her tiny chubby hand wave.

Faeryn had the cutest little hands. Perfectly formed little rosebud nails. She had momma's hands. She was so cold though, and I never felt them move or hold on.
Maybe all of this is why tears started falling. It was one of those moments that you almost panic. I would have gotten up and went to the bathroom, but I didn't know where that was - and to find out I would have either had to wander around the restaurant in tears or ask a server, while crying, where the restroom was.
So I attempted to just make myself stop. Stop looking and STOP CRYING. It didn't work. It was one of those times when crying just has to happen. It was one of those times when, even as I sat there and asked Tim to talk to me about ANYTHING, the tears still fell. One after another, after another. I had to look to the wall on my left and try to get it together. Think about something else - stop thinking about the fantasy Faeryn, stop thinking about her being gone, dead. Forever.

I had ordered a glass of wine with dinner and prayed that it would soon make its way over to our table. I don't drink. But I was looking forward to escaping some of the thoughts that were way too loud in my head at dinner. I've been attempting to fill my void. I've been filling it with unhealthy foods mostly. I am completely aware of this. I am also completely aware that this will not help any of the goals I would like to achieve. One being losing the pregnancy weight so that I can fit back into my clothes again. Another would be to feel better about myself. But late at night. When I'm alone and Tim is sleeping, that void opens up and the sadness is sitting there threatening to overwhelm me. Chocolate or desserts help for the moment. They press the sadness back down for the night, but that's always followed by the self-loathing and feeling of loss of control the next morning.

So this is where I am in my journey 91 days into the death of my daughter. Overeating. Staring at live children, wondering if their parents KNOW the pain that some of us feel. Crying in restaurants. Hating the way I look in the mirror. Not fitting into my clothes. Missing my little girl. Touching her urn at night, feeling the cold marble. Wishing she was here.

There are also days that I have laughed, and laughed hard. There was also a day that I think I had a panic reaction out of no where at work. There are good days and bad days - they come as they want whether I'm ready for them or not.

91 days in - I never thought I would make it this far. I couldn't see that far into the future 91 days ago. Everything stable ended then. It was survival mode, and I couldn't see the point of planning for my future as my future was ripped from my grasp in an instant. So unexpected. So very fast.

I have planned an escape for Tim and I. So I think that is a step forward too. We are going to Sanibel Island in August. I am attempting to plan again. We shall see if we make it. I sure hope so. I miss being naive. I miss expecting things to work out. But this is the new me. This is my new normal. I learn more every day.

The Second Trimester

I need to write about the second trimester. That's when I first felt you move and you became more to me than a prison sentence for 18 years.
Early in the second trimester is when I remember feeling claustrophobic with you in my belly. Later in the second trimester is also when I started falling in love with you.
For some reason it was so easy to write about BEFORE I knew you.
It was also easier to talk about AFTER you were gone.
This part of the story is tough. It brings me back to a time when I didn't appreciate who you were and were going to be. It brings me back to the naivety believing everything was going to be okay.

The second trimester.

I remember the first time you moved. I was sitting on the couch in my spot, your Daddy was next to me. We had just finished dinner and were watching Netflix.
I felt you move. It was a tiny swish in the bottom right part of my belly. My breath caught and I gasped and jumped. Your Daddy looked over to see if everything was alright. I told him that I thought you moved. You didn't have a name at this point, but we knew, from testing, that you were a little girl. I then started second guessing the feeling. I looked it up on my phone - What does it feel like when baby moves... Some say little bubbles. Or fishes swimming. To me, you always felt like a muscle spasm, but deep in my belly. It was like a muscle spasm because it was uncontrollable and you always moved more than just once. No one described it as a muscle spasm, so I thought I had imagined it.
Looking back now. That WAS your first movement. I remember.

We had many tests and many ultrasounds during the second trimester and you and I always passed with flying colors.
No diabetes.
No genetic defects.
Strong heartbeats.
Strong movements.

I started having my panic attacks again in the second trimester too. Who knows why. Looking back, it was probably the incessant worry of if we could afford you. Where you would go to school. Who would watch you as an infant. What stranger would I trust with your life? I was living way in the future. Pretty ridiculous sitting here "in the future" now and looking back at the past. Who knew I wouldn't need to worry about any of these things?

When this picture was taken of you, I didn't know that I would never get to meet you and look into your eyes.

This is when I fell head over heels in love with you. I looked at your little nose, your big ol' belly, those beautiful little lips and just fell in love. 

I didn't fight the fear of loving you. I really believe now that IS what I was doing before seeing you in this sonogram. You weren't real to me. You weren't a little human in my belly. I couldn't see you as a person - you were just a little "thing". 

Not anymore. I loved you, and knew I had to protect you. I was still afraid of all the fears written above, but my maternal instinct was SLIGHTLY kicking in. Just slightly. I knew you were going to be beautiful. I knew you were going to be smart. I knew you were ALIVE. You were. You were alive. I was so worried about me back then. Worried that I wouldn't be able to live through my panic attacks. Worried that I wouldn't be able to drive to work. It was beginning. The agoraphobia. I fought hard to not get on medication. I finally gave in towards the 3rd trimester. I got on the lowest dose possible - I still feel guilty about that choice. If only I could have been stronger for you, would you have lived? 

The second trimester. 

This is when we named you. This is when Mommy FINALLY gave in and admitted to loving you (although I did all along). Did you know your Daddy loved you outright from the start? He was so excited from the first positive test. He would have been your favorite, baby girl. You were definitely his favorite. 

The second trimester was pretty uneventful. Everything was so normal. Everything was so taken for granted. Everything was pretty darn easy, looking back. 

Life was getting ready to get pretty fucking unfair in a few months after this sonogram. Cruel and unfair. I would also get to see the limits of my strength soon. I would also get to see you.

I will need to mentally prepare before hitting the next trimester. The third. When my world turned upside down. 

I miss you times a million

Momma is sitting here trying to think of anything else other than your beautiful face. I can see it so clearly and I don't know who you looked like more. You were only 34 weeks old but yet a person all your own.
I saw you in my mind. Flashes last night as I tried to go to sleep. I don't mean to block you out baby girl, but it just makes me so damn sad. I've never felt this sad in my entire life. I didn't know this sadness was something I could live through. Sometimes it doesn't feel like I can, but somehow I wake up the next day. Alive.
I'm here trying to concentrate on anything else. Facebook, reality shows, drawing, searching amazon. Nothing is keeping my attention. My mind keeps seeing you.  And I cry.
I've cried so much tonight I can't breathe.

I've made plans with your daddy to go to a movie tomorrow night. The last time we were there I was pregnant with you. I remember being afraid that the volume of the movie would scare you in my belly. I was having anxiety attacks pretty much daily at that point, but just trying to work through them. I hope none of that hurt you. Sometimes I wonder if I somehow killed you. Did you feel my stress and worry? We will never know why you left us. What made you die. I hope it wasn't me baby girl.

Everywhere we go now, I question if I would be doing this same thing if you were physically here with us. I know I wouldn't be going to a movie tomorrow. I know for a fact I would be spending every waking moment with you, staring at you, watching you breathe, and loving every moment.

I drew a picture for you my Faeryn Willow. One of many since you've been gone. You are my star. You are the most important thing in my universe. You are up there surrounded by others, yet the only one that matters to me.

I love you more than there are stars in the night sky my baby.

Momma

Stillborn - 57 days - One month, 3 weeks and 6 days (I can see her in my mind)

She had a little frog butt.

Tim has the cutest butt. I call it his little frog butt. I always pinch it and smack it when I walk by him. It's just that cute. My little girl had that same little butt. I can remember her little perfect body in every detail. I've been able to picture every little detail for 2 days now, and it won't stop. 

Perhaps some people would think that remembering every detail of your precious daughter is a great thing, maybe one day I will look back and wish I could remember every detail, but for this moment, right now, it hurts me. You know that weight that presses down on your chest? Right above your heart when you feel the heart break? That weight feels like it's around 35 pounds. It's hard for me to breathe.
We have a tropical storm (Colin) coming through Florida today, so we were sent home an hour and a half early. I used that time to do yoga to try to relieve the pressure and pain on my heart. To try to be IN THE MOMENT. To BE HERE NOW. Stop the visions of her perfect little chubby hands that were identical to mine. Stop the visions of her big feet, so much like her Daddy's. Stop seeing the little tummy that was so perfect in it's roundness. The little tummy and chest that never took a breath.  The shape of her tiny little newborn-sized back was so very perfect. Her little shoulder blades, the curve of her neck. I can see it all. And that perfect little frog butt.
I remember when I was pregnant I talked to Tim and told him that one thing I hoped for is that she would have a tiny little frog butt like him. Guess what? She had it.
I probably should have been hoping for a child that would live. Maybe that could have made a difference.

I'm so good I can almost fool myself

Ahh. My neighbors.
I live in town homes. We've lived here for 8 years now. We were the quiet couple with cats, that would say hello to our neighbors, but that never bothered anyone or got in anyone's business.
I remember the day that Tim told the young couple two doors down that we were expecting - I was three months along at that point. They were so excited, as the wife (who I will call T) was very pregnant at the time and due in January 2016 with their second child, a little girl. Every time we would see them outside we would wave, and we would ask each other how we were doing etc. Tim and T's husband (Who I will call J) now had something in common, more than just their unruly beards.

There is also a Mom and her daughter that live right next door to us. I caught the Mom staring at my belly one day, doing that sly little glance. I was imagining that she was wondering why I looked like I drank a 6 pack a day as that's what my pregnant belly looked like, a beer belly. I rubbed my belly and said that we were expecting. I was 6 months along at that point. The Mom and daughter were SO happy for us. They gave me a big hug. Every time I would see them out, they would say "Hi Momma! How are you??". We would talk for a few minutes, exchange pleasantries and we would all go in our homes.

This all went on for months - well, up until week 34.

As there was no notice of losing Faeryn... it all happened so fast and unexpected, we hadn't seen the neighbors from April 8th until I was released from the hospital on April 11th. An unfortunate part of being pregnant, delivering your child and not being able to bring her home with you, is you still LOOK pregnant and you have no baby.

So as we got out of our car, J was walking the dog past us. All excited (as per our normal conversations, and he wouldn't know to act otherwise) he asks "You have that baby yet? You guys getting excited?". I look over at Tim, he looks at me and I shake my head no. I told him that "we gave birth to Faeryn yesterday". I will never forget the look of horror on his face. He apologized profusely saying that he shouldn't have asked us, he's so sorry, he can't believe he said something, can't believe he asked. He starts stumbling over his words as he's reaching for his town home door to disappear as quickly as he can. I tell him he couldn't have known, please don't feel bad for asking, we are okay (though we aren't), just trying to relieve his mortification.
I don't want to be seen as "those people" either. The "people with the dead baby". The "people that cry all the time". The "haunted couple". The "pitiful people in Unit F". I could go on and on...

I had the misfortune of sitting out front, smoking a cigarette (yeah I started smoking again, full out chain smoking maniac, just to get through the first few months of this madness), and waiting on my therapist to come by for our appointment. T and J pull up in the truck. I haven't seen any of them since the day mentioned above. T has had her baby, and she's around 3 months old at this point. I start looking down, scanning the grass, look over at my car, and then I notice that maybe I'm being weird, so I look over at them, try to act "normal" and wave or something. J has the baby in a carseat and is now at the door to their home and I see T crawl out of the front seat (her back is facing me) and she stares over at her husband with a completely panicked face - Wide eyes, mouth set in a line. I can almost read her mind with her body language. It says Holy Shit - what do I do??? Do I get my 4 year old out of the car? I can't keep her in there, but SHE is outside. HER, the lady who's baby died. T goes to the backseat and gets the 4 year old out and walks her to the door. I'm now full on staring, as it's SUPER weird, but I want to show how "okay" I am. That I will still speak, I won't cry from seeing a child or baby. I'm not "THAT person" some weirdo that holds fake baby dolls and acts like they are really her baby. Or the lady you hear on the news that has stolen someone's baby/child because she wants a child so bad. I'm DEFINITELY not THAT lady. I would love to have Faeryn, but not some random child, no thanks.
So I speak to the side of T's head (as she is NOT going to look over) and I say "Hi" while waving to their little girl. T stares straight ahead towards their home and says "Oh, she just woke up, she's grouchy". I say "aww, that's okay". They go in.

A few days later I'm finishing up watering the plants and rolling my hose back up. I hear a noise and look to my right. It's J coming out of his house with the dog. I do that weird, smile/grin and look away. Fuck, lets not make everyone uncomfortable, so I stare down at the hose, like this is taking all my attention. He walks the dog behind me and asks quietly "So, how are you doing?". I was actually having a rare, okay day and I stop diddling with the hose, stand up and talk. I tell him that I'm doing okay. I also tell him, with a smile, "Look, I don't want to make you all feel uncomfortable. Like we are crazy people sitting in our house crying all the time. I'm not one of those people that wants to steal babies or anything like that". He has a surprised look on his face and laughs, like he can't believe I've said such a thing. He asks if we are going to try again, to have another baby. I tell him that it was really strange. The night that Faeryn was born, Tim and I discussed that. We knew as soon as she was born, that we were meant to be parents. That we KNEW instantly the amount of love we had to give a child, and that one day we would like to be given that chance. He said that he and T were talking about our situation. And that T stated that if this ever happened to her, that there is no way they would ever have another child. She wouldn't be able to handle it. I nodded in agreement and said I could definitely understand that feeling. As this is the craziest, most awful shit to go through ever. Ever. EVER.

I was hoping after this conversation that it would be better. Maybe we could all go back to normal. That it wouldn't have an awkward vibe if we were all outside at the same time. Unfortunately, T hasn't been the same. She has crab-walked from the car to her house. By that I mean walking sideways with her back facing me and the car seat in front of her. I was confused if she was shielding ME from the baby or shielding the baby from ME. Like I had the plague and if I coughed too close they might catch it. She hasn't spoke to me since I've been home.

This morning I was locking up the house and heard my immediate neighbors (the Mom and her daughter) coming out too. They haven't been AS weird to me as T has, but I can tell they don't really know how to act around me. So I turned around as they were staring down, trying to unlock their car, in a hurry. I said "Goooood Morning!" I shocked myself with the sound of my good morning. It sounded SO normal. SO okay. And you know what? I wasn't okay today. I was really, really sad. I have those days most days now. But I keep trucking. I keep going. I still get up and go to work, I cry in my car before work and some days at lunch. But you know what? I have gotten really, really good at faking it.

I'm so good I can almost fool myself.

*Photo courtesy of Algrim Whitefang

Time travel and Stillbirth - How I wish one existed and one didn't

I have some crazy thoughts that come into my head (pretty often now-a-days). Last night I was asking myself where I would go back to in time to feel what I felt at that moment. I wouldn't even want to change anything - I wouldn't ask for THAT much. Just go back to an exact moment, that's all I want.

I would go back to 4/06/16. Why, you ask? Why not earlier? Let me explain...
I had a Doctor's appointment with the specialist on 4/05/16. I heard Faeryn's strong heartbeat, had my (oh, so naive) questions answered. And had no idea that stillbirth was something that happened.
April 6th was such a normal day. So, so normal. I went to work, felt Faeryn kick all day. Talked to her. Sang to her in the shower. She was moving just like she always did right after dinner. Tim talked to her that night, kissed my tummy, told her he loved her. Everything was okay in my world that Wednesday. Everything was so normal. What I would give to be back in that moment and pause time. Just live there a little bit longer, feel what my life felt like right then... really live in that moment.

I then daydreamed about where I would take Tim to and freeze time. I know exactly where I would take him back to. It would be 4/08/16. His last day at his old job was 4/07/16, Thursday. All of his friends at work were throwing him a baby shower/goodbye party on 4/08, Friday. He went back at 4:30 for the baby shower. They decorated for him, bought a large sheet cake that said "Welcome Baby Faeryn" with bright pink icing and beautiful white decorations. They bought balloons saying Baby Girl and balloons in all colors. They shared in Tim's happiness, they showed him love, they welcomed his baby girl, his first child - my first child. He took pictures on our camera. Pictures showing everyone laughing, smiling. They "showered" Tim with gifts for Faeryn. His friends helped re-wrap everything so that when he came home with the gifts that Friday night he could watch me open them and see me surprised at everything that was given to us. Our living room was filled with gifts, and balloons. Unfortunately Tim never got to see me open anything, that moment was taken from us. So, I would take him back to BEFORE 5:30pm on 4/08 - definitely before then. Before his happiness was shattered. I would let him live in that moment, bask in the glory of being a dad-to-be. Let him stay in that safe, sweet, loving place just a little bit longer.

Here's the reality. Reality sucks, but here it is.

On Thursday, 4/07/16, sometime around 5:30pm I started questioning when the last time I felt Faeryn move. I hadn't really felt Faeryn move in a while. I couldn't really remember when she last moved - I know FOR SURE she was moving Wednesday after dinner. I thought she moved Thursday morning - it was almost becoming second nature feeling movements in my belly, so it wasn't something that I so much paid attention to. (That really hurt to type that truth, makes me feel so shitty).
I had mentioned to Tim that I hadn't felt her move; I shared this with him when we got into bed Thursday night. I made him try to listen to her heartbeat through my tummy with a toilet paper roll. This was our first attempt ever at him trying to listen to my belly, so we didn't know what he should be hearing or not hearing for that matter. I know that I had a bad gut-instinct that something just wasn't right. Now - let me go ahead and say that I do have panic disorder, so anxiety and getting into a tizzy is something that comes quite naturally to me - Tim is used to this and also used to talking me down. He talked me down that night. Said everything was fine.
Friday morning - 4/08/16. I got up, got dressed, woke Tim up with a kiss goodbye and went to work. Faeryn would sometimes get moving by around 7:30, but she would really move around 10:00am. It was 7:50 when I got into my office. I remember I was the only one in there. I got on all fours, like a cat pose. I shook my belly while in that stance. I talked to her. I said "Come on baby girl, move for mommy. Mommy is starting to panic. You need to move for me. Okay baby girl?"
I got back up sat in my chair, turned on my computer and felt a wave of panic. Placed my hands on my belly and willed her to move. I thought I felt a little twinge down by my cervix. Faeryn always loved to kick or dance on my cervix. It would almost take my breath away sometimes. This was just a tiny, tiny twinge. But to me it was hope. Was that her? I bet it was her.
About 8:30am I felt a roll (for lack of a better term at the time). It was a roll high up in my belly. I went and asked the girls up front if I felt the baby roll is that counted as a kick? They told me yes, and I said "Yea! I've been so nervous all morning. She hasn't really moved for me." I stopped in to my director's office and told her that I was panicking earlier about not feeling the baby move, but now she moved and I felt better. She had a baby 3 months before me, so she got quite nervous. She said that if I haven't felt the baby move I need to call in and talk to my doctor just to be safe.
So - to be safe, I called my Doctor's office. I felt like one of those overly-anxious mother's to be. I was put through to the triage nurse's voicemail. She called me back around 2 hours later. I talked to her and she said to go at lunch and get something warm to eat, a sugary drink, turn off all the lights, no TV, no radio and count 10 kicks in one hour. I didn't know that their office closed early on Fridays.
I went to lunch late, got a coke from McDonalds and drank it. Went and listened to the birds sing at the park and counted kicks. Nothing. No kicks. But I kept telling myself, it was okay. (Fuck, this is getting harder and harder to type). I got back to work, called the Doctor's office and they had closed. I left a voicemail on the triage nurses number. I told her that I hadn't felt any kicks, but that I hoped everything was okay. I left work at 4:30, my normal time. When I stepped outside a voicemail went through to my cell. It was the nurse. She had called and left a message. I wasn't getting it until now. She said she talked to my doctor and "she hoped everything was okay, but if I didn't feel the kicks, Dr. L says to go to triage". I drove home. I didn't know what triage was, and I didn't want to call Tim as he was in the middle of his baby shower. I went home to wait on Tim, I looked up "triage". I called "Baby Place". This was the hospital I was scheduled to deliver at on May 23rd. This was the hospital we were scheduled to tour on Saturday 4/09/16 at 11:00am. THE NEXT DAY.
They said to come in to their maternity triage since I am registered there. They would check me out and make sure everything was okay. I waited. I waited. I waited. I waited for Tim to get home, knowing something was off. Something was wrong. I didn't want to scare him, I didn't want to say the words to him. But I did.
He got home around 5:30pm. He was smiling. He brought all the gifts and the balloons in. Stacked them in the living room. Filled the living room. I said the words. "Hey, remember how I was worried last night about Faeryn? I called the doctor and she said to go to Baby Place if I didn't get Faeryn to move". His face fell. I watched it happen. I quickly added, "It's JUST so that we can be safe, rather than sorry - we will go, hear her heartbeat, and come home and open the gifts."

That never happened.

So there are two moments I would take us back to. One for me. One for Tim. I long to feel that normalcy before I knew that a healthy baby's heart could just stop beating. Before I knew that stillbirth still happened. I want to be naive again. Just for a moment.

Stillborn - 34 days later - One month and 3 days (Death Certificate)

Today I received her Death Certificate in the mail.
Just the thought of it makes a rock hard lump in my throat and my stomach twist into a knot. I have been working on "not feeling guilty" for the death of my child. That's a tough one to get through. I notice this guilt is always preceded by "should have".

I should have noticed she wasn't moving as much.

I should have went to the hospital sooner.

I should have known.

I received the autopsy results at my last OB appointment on 5/10/16. I asked the questions on my list to the doctor. She went over the fact that Faeryn DID have a normal 3 vessel cord. That the specialist was incorrect. It wasn't a two vessel cord (Single Umbilical Artery), as the specialist had stated on our appointment on 3/29/16. Oh, 3/29/16, that dreaded day when our world first tilted at a slant. Everything was so perfect until 32 weeks along.
I scanned through the autopsy report when I got home from my OB appointment. There was no cause of death stated. Just a bunch of measurements and descriptions on how much my little girls organs weighed, how her skin looked the day after her birth, you know, all the things that no parent "should" have to read about their child. I haven't looked at it since. I've thought about it, but what's it going to solve?
I received a letter addressed from the Funeral Home today. I wasn't sure what was in it. I was thinking maybe a letter or something. Who knew it would be the Death Certificate? Makes sense now, but I wasn't expecting it. To see the official State of Florida Bureau of Vital Statistics information when I opened the envelope, on my little girl, almost made me throw up. Instead of puking, I cried.

I've been trying to come up with what I'm thankful for each day. What I am grateful for. I was asked this from my therapist on our last visit. At that moment my answer was NOTHING. Yes, I was having a fit of pure grief. At the beginning of that therapy session on 5/11/16 I found out that my therapist has taken a wonderful position as a director for a rehabilitation center. A very prestigious job, and of course not one that she could pass up. I've been seeing her since my Mother's death in 2014. I was making such progress. I had not had a panic attack until I found out I was pregnant, she got me through that and then we were working on the death of my child, just over a month ago.

She asked me how the news of her new job, and our termination of therapy made me feel. I cried and said it's another loss. I was angry. I don't know at what exactly. I felt like I was being thrown for yet another loop. I need her.
I'm a overly independent person, I never ask for help. I would rather not impose myself on people. We've been working on that for 2 years, my fear of rejection when asking for help. She is someone that I've come to trust. She is someone that I respect and seek guidance from. She is someone that I need. She is soon to be gone as well.

I will continue to survive. I have never cried so many tears in my entire life. I've lived 37 years of my life without a child, but now I question how I will live the rest of my life without her, my Faeryn Willow. My heart is heavy tonight. It is an actual physical pain. There is a tightness in my chest, an ache. Heartache.

I'm setting up her room tonight. We had just put her crib together the weekend before we found out she died. I was clearing off the shelf and preparing to take that down to fit her crib on that wall. It was all left in disarray and hasn't been touched since she passed away in my belly. Tonight, I'm finishing clearing off the shelves; dusting them. I have cleared off everything that doesn't have meaning. This will be her shelf now. She received some stuffed animal gifts from family and friends before her death. Those are up there. I have a Dr. Seuss book that was mine as a child, it even has my name scrawled in it from my youth. I was going to read that to her. I remember finding that book during my pregnancy and thinking how fun that would be to share with her. Bed time stories with my girl. That book is on her shelf now. A special shelf for my special angel.

So, what am I thankful for tonight... I am thankful for the little girl I had to say goodbye to before I even said hello. She changed my life and my whole being. She changed ME. Completely. She showed me how much I LOVE her by how much I GRIEVE for her. I love her and grieve for her with every inch of my body and soul; every fiber of my being. She taught me true love. I have loved before, but not like this. I felt true love as soon as I birthed her. Instantly- right that moment. I loved her so much that I would do it all over again. Every. Single. Thing. Again. Her life, and her death; I would do it ALL over again, even knowing I couldn't change a thing.

I would live this pain again, just to know her as I know her.

That is true love.