Today wasn't as terrible as I thought it was going to be. We went to Hubbs' work and picked out an absolutely perfect plot. His boss is pulling a few strings for us and we've really gotten a great spot. We met with the mortuary and they were wonderful, apparently they don't charge for infant funerals, and since they know Hubbs, are giving us the casket/vault combo at cost. The service is completely free and they are taking care of everything for us. We went to the monument company recommended by Hubbs' boss, and they're giving us a significant discount, which is great as well. Everyone involved has made planning this a little less painful by taking such good care of us. The funeral will be Friday and I'm hoping it will be short and sweet. Hubbs and I are really hoping to avoid anyone talking to us at all. I just don't want to hear cliches and things that are meant to be helpful but are really just awful. I know people mean well, but sometimes they say stupid things.
I came across these empathy cards on the interwebs, and two of them totally made me laugh out loud, which is impressive considering how ridiculously sad I am. (You can find them here)
I think the worst part is that my milk came in the day after he died. Yes, I'm recovering from surgery, and have a huge line of stitches and an impressive amount of swelling and bruising on my abdomen to remind me... but having leaky boobs is worse. It just reminds me that my baby is supposed to be here with me. I'm supposed to be holding, nurturing, feeding, and getting to know my son. It's just not in the cards for me. I could have tried to pump and donate my milk to a milk bank, but I think it would have been harder. I'm just hoping it dries up as soon as possible. It's hard to hug my daughter and snuggle her before her bedtime with engorged and extremely sore boobs.