Seven weeks.

Sometimes I feel like this isn't real.  How can this be real?  Maybe it isn't, I think.  Maybe these past seven weeks have merely been a nightmare.  Maybe I'll wake up in a minute and feel him turning inside of me again.

It's then that I have to sit and go over each fact in my mind, to convince myself that I'm (sadly) not dreaming.  I have to accept my reality, my own personal form of hell on earth.

I don't have my baby.
I will not feel him move in me again.
I will not watch him grow up.
I cannot hold him, because he is gone.
I cannot hear his cry.
I cannot see his smile.

My heart hurts more than I will ever be able to describe.  I try my best to hold onto the hope I have, knowing we will see him again one day.  Until then though, a piece of me is missing.

I've said it before...but please, be gentle with me.
Please, be patient with me as I walk through this deep pain.