Is this for real? Did this really happen?
Did I really sit in that doctor's office and listen to him say all those things that were wrong with my baby? Can that really be my child in that urn?
No. That's just not possible. It seems like none of it's real. Like none of it ever happened. Maybe it's still June 29th and I'm having a bad dream. I'll wake up in a few hours and we'll go to our doctor's appt and everything will be okay. There will be no "discrepancy in the measurements". No Level II ultrasound. No doctor with a serious face saying words I don't know. No deadbaby. No funeral home, picking up the remains, buying flowers, avoiding friends, crying in the car. No tiny footprints.
No fingernails so fucking small.
No spina bifida. No ventriculomegaly. No clubfeet.
I don't want a deadbaby.
If this one had gone just like Mischa's did - and I know there's no reason it would've, but if it had, tonight I would go into labor. She'd be born tomorrow. We'd take her home on her due date.
We'd take her home instead of lighting candles.
We brought her home on July 13th. Four months before she was due. In a small (but probably not small enough) gold box.
No. This can't be for real.
(Please tell me this isn't for real.)
