The weeks that followed were horrendous. We cremated our baby Will's remains, and I put his things together in a blue leather box. I felt like I'd not only lost my baby. I'd also lost my shot at motherhood. The thought of NOT ever being a parent to a living child changes your idea of who you are. I missed my baby and I didn't know how I would ever feel ok again.
I've thought about how to capture the feeling here, and the idea of trying to do it made me not want to write anything.
Know that it was just really really bad. The worst time of my life. I was in therapy. I was on Zoloft. And I felt like I was stuck there for an eternity. I just wanted my baby back.
I chronicled these awful days in an online community I belong to, and one day the community crashed and all the posts were lost. In a way, it felt kind of freeing. It happened about 2 1/2 months after my loss.
