Two weeks ago, my son was born. I can't believe how much my life has changed in just two weeks. From taking my glucose test, to "let's check on the baby", to "ok, we need to operate right now", and that was just the first two hours of this life-changing journey. I'm healing well, both physically and emotionally. I get moments of sadness, but I don't cry. I really do feel like the funeral and saying goodbye one last time did give us some closure. Hubbs has the distraction of work, which I hope to go back to next week.
I occasionally think about the things I should be doing, and not the things I'm actually doing. I should be sleep-deprived from night-time feedings. I should be holding and rocking my newborn to sleep. I should be gazing at and getting to know my little man. I'm not doing any of those things because he was taken from me. It's true I think that everyone wishes for more time. In our case, that just would have been incredibly selfish. He was hooked up to a ventilator, had horrible edema, they had to give him blood and blood products so many times just to keep his little body going. I know that letting him go was the best thing we could have done for him.
Still, I miss my baby boy. I'll always wish he was here with us. Two weeks ago our world changed forever, but the earth just keeps on turning.