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1.5 weeks




Healthy grieving. Is that really a thing? It's been 1.5 weeks since we handed Sadler over to the NICU nurse, after we said our final goodbyes to him. I still cry; daily, mostly regularly. I'm not sure if and when I will ever reach that point to where I won't cry. I have moments where I start to feel somewhat normal again, and then the pain begins to take over, and suddenly I feel so awful for trying to feel so normal. I get so overwhelmed. And I feel so guilty, to the point of where it almost feels like depression is my only normalcy. 

I have flashbacks of my time in the hospital, and how I wish as much as I hated it then, I would give anything to have it back now. That place became such a comfort to me. It made me feel like even though I was there for a high-risk pregnancy, a sense of peace could still be felt. A sort of safe haven I guess.

Sadler truly was the most beautiful child. Like all of our children.

He looked just like his older brother, and for once, it was possible that we were going to have a curly-haired little boy. He was perfect. Every 2 pounds and 9.6 ounces of his little body was just so perfect.

Every day that passes, I feel my body letting go of the physical evidence that I was ever pregnant. There is no more bump. No more baby kicks. Just faint gassy bubbles that FEEL like baby kicks. And then the sadness returns. I am not pregnant.


Most days, I don't want to get out of bed. I don't want to let go of the pain that I feel from delivering him. I want the remember every second of every moment that our son was breathing. 

I remember when he was born. The blue drape was lowered, and the clear drape took its place. One of my biggest wishes was to have a clear drape, so I could see our sweet boy pulled from my stomach. His little faint cry was music to my ears, and instantly tears streamed from my eyes. He was alive. He was breathing. He had LUNGS. He was crying. He was OK.

Little did I know, he would become the sickest baby in the NICU...


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