May 16th was a day I wish I could forget. The day I had to leave the hospital without my baby. I should have been ecstatic about leaving with my newborn baby, nervous about coming home to being a new mom, but instead I left with heavy, aching arms. I remember staring out the window the whole way home, not wanting to look into the back seat because doing so would have broken me.
May 20th was the last time I saw his beautiful face. Instead of exhausted from taking care of a newborn, we were exhausted from grief and shock. I had wished this day to never come from the moment I saw the empty chamber on the ultrasound machine. Yet here it was. I don't remember getting dressed, I don't remember the drive to the funeral home. I do remember standing in front of his casket and feeling so broken, so alienated from this world. I remember feeling abandoned. I remember feeling as though I had let him down by not knowing that he was trying to tell me that something was wrong.
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