All the feelings.

My baby boy has been on my mind all day. I really could have sat all day and cried in my bed. But I didn't, and I'm proud of that. But I have been reliving little moments and feelings in my head. Until I lost a child, a part of me, I have never felt so much emotion when remembering. Every feeling is just as strong as it was when it happened, in real life. Which is a pretty strong reminder that this is my real life. This isn't some fantasy I had where I finally fell pregnant and then tragically lost it. This isn't a nightmare. This is real life. And they are real feelings. 

I remember how I felt when I saw this shirt hanging in Motherhood Maternity. Mom to be, 2014. That was me! It felt so good to wear this shirt. And then I remember coming home from the hospital and knowing there was a hamper full recently-worn maternity clothes. My mom and dad were at the house with us- they wanted to be with us and help us. A few years ago I had ankle surgery and they came to take care of me. Bed-ridden, I hated asking for help. I did all that I could then. But August 20th, when my mom asked what she could do for me, I asked her to do my laundry. And she started sorting it there in my living room, and shook out this shirt and I told her "that is why I wanted you to do the laundry". I hate the pain that flashed across her eyes when she realized se was washing maternity clothes that were no longer appropriate for my empty body to wear any more. Or maybe it was more the pain she knew those clothes would bring me when they so recently brought such joy. I would find that shirt and some other clothes folded up in Mike's man cave weeks later. She knew I would find them when the time was right and I could handle it. Mothers know these things. 

I remembered today, too, the feeling I had the very moment I realized my water had broken. When it was no longer an embarrassing accident but now a cause for concern. I saw the pink blood in the puddle on the floor. I calmly dressed. I waited for Mike to say I should call the nurse's line. It was a cold morning for August in Texas. 

I relive the way it felt when I laid in that bed in the hospital, holding my husband's hand and knowing our sweet baby boy laid sleeping on the sheet beneath my waist. The cord hadn't been cut. We were together, the three of us, physically for the first and last time. We all were one. That's my favorite moment and the one that I hated leaving the most. Some days I still long to be in that bed with the two loves of my life. But here I am, nearing three months without him, crying in my bed and blogging about how I lost my baby. 

And there's not really anything to say that follows that, is there?