That's what I kept thinking yesterday.
And now it's been another day.
My nurse on Sunday was the first one to check the baby's heartrate. I almost asked her not to. Now I wish I had listened more carefully that last time.
It made me so sad to feel the baby kicking when I knew we were going to lose her and now I miss it so much.
It's funny... since we didn't know she was a girl until after she was born, I have a hard time thinking of the baby in my belly as "she." They seem like two different entities. And I suppose they were. There's the mystery baby, alive and kicking in my belly (who I was sure was a boy), and then there's the little girl who died right before she was born. There's "the baby" and then there's Willow.
