It’s 4:55 AM, September 25th. Yesterday was a hard day. Today will be a hard day. But yesterday was hard.
Yesterday, Steven and I made our way to the funeral home. We had to sign paperwork for our baby boy.
Paperwork to have him cremated and for his death certificate. In the state of Indiana, anyone over 20 weeks gestation requires a death certificate. Seems unfair when my baby boy didn’t even have a birth certificate.
As we walked in, I was going to be the strong one this time. But I was anything but.
I cried as soon as I walked in and couldn’t say hello.
I also found myself hating this business. Who wants to make money (a lot of it) off of death? It’s a very lucrative business.
But we were given a 75% discount because our son fell between the infant and three year age range for this discount.
My stomach is turning as I write this.
I’m trying to keep my thoughts positive and quickly divert my mind whenever I think of his poor little body.
He should be with his mommy.
I’m constantly reminded that he should still be with me.
My body, my head, my heart, my every being just aches for my baby.
Yesterday while getting out of the shower, I was putting my lotion on and when I got to my shrinking stomach, I sobbed.
My milk is also starting to come in and the pain of not being able to release it is getting unbearable.
But there is no one to feed.
This. Is. Hell.
How can life get any worse?
I just want my baby.