(I wrote this last week)
Some days I can't imagine that I will have to live without you for another 35-50 years or more. 29 days is not nearly enough. I wish you were here still. Where is the miracle of your survival?
I tried to talk about you last night to your twin. I love you and I don't want you to be forgotten. Daddy said you're too young, your sister is too young to be saddled with my grief. Maybe I am trying to get her to carry it with me. I am permanently diminished by your absence. My soul had an accident, a horrible disfigurement. Small strokes, tiny seizures, imperceptible shadows of death... in the NICU, PICU. I didn't go to the burners, to the morgue. I will never touch your sweet skin again. Softness against the smell of blood and plastic.
This started as an online journal in early 2006. At the time, it was a carefree spot for silly diatribes and the occasional photo. Since then, I got pregnant with mono.amniotic mono.chorionic twins, learned one of our daughters had a heart defect, spent 11 weeks in a hospital room and 29 more days with Eva in the NICU and PICU before losing her. We have two children who are alive and thriving and one who didn't make it. For me, this has become that place in between.
