18 weeks with baby girl 🖤
Today is rough. I’m not sure what’s worse. The day before the anniversary of his death- or the day of. See, the day before is filled with anticipation. Anticipating tomorrows triggers, tears, grief attacks, longing, ache. It’s filled with remembering that on the evening of this day 2 years ago, I laid my baby boy down in his crib, sang him goodnight, and unknowingly it would also be goodbye.
It would be the last time I would ever see his beautiful brown eyes gleaming back at me, the last time my arms would hold his warm skin. He would never wake up again.
The anniversary of his death is always devastating, but so is this day. I’m realizing that while this day is laced with all that anticipation of tomorrow’s feelings, it really is filled with them on its own and it’s just as difficult.