It’s been one week today since I heard the words that would change my life forever.. “The baby has no heartbeat” Those were the hardest words I’ve ever had to hear. The hardest thing I’ve ever done is live every second since that moment. Now it’s me. Now I’m one of those moms that everyone feels sorry for. Now I’ve had to bear an unimaginable amount of pain and put everyone I love and care about in pain, but I’m not supposed to feel guilty about it. How is that even possible? I feel as if I failed my son because my body couldn’t take care of him the way he needed. I feel as if I failed my husband because he wanted a little boy to play with sooo bad. I feel as if I’ve failed my daughter because she deserved to have a little brother to pick on and that I’m continuing to fail her because I haven’t been able to do much with her after the pain of surgery and my brain isn’t functioning properly to give her the attention she deserves. I feel as if we have just stopped dead in place with this huge brick wall in front of us while the rest of the world continues to spin and function normally. I don’t know how to continue daily life as normal. What’s normal? Is it normal that I’m afraid to lay down and go to sleep every night because of the thoughts that will flood my brain. Is it normal that I don’t want to wake up every morning because then I have to realize all over again that this wasn’t all just a terrible dream. Is it normal that I’m 30 years old and as I’m sitting here typing this there is a funeral home envelope next to me with information on my infant son? How do I get back to normal? How do I even know what that is? 2 weeks ago normal meant I was pregnant and throwing up every morning, drinking as much water as possible, and starting to plan a baby shower for the baby we just found out was little boy. Renix… that’s his name. My son. We knew he was a boy for about 2 weeks before we lost him. We were so happy that day. It’s a boy! Exactly what we wanted. 1 boy 1 girl perfect little family. Now that whole dream is shattered. My whole world has shattered. Our little boy was born on the last day of year December 31, 2014. He weighed 8oz. and was 8in long. I bet you can’t even imagine how small that is. I was 24 weeks pregnant, but he was measuring at about 19 weeks. My wedding ring would have gone around his entire leg. Time. He needed more time. My body couldn’t give it to him. Time. Now everyone is telling me I need time. Is time going to make it better? It didn’t for my son. Is time going to make it easier? Maybe a little but not for a while. Is time going to change one god damn thing about this whole shitty situation? I seriously doubt it. I don’t know if anything is ever going to make it better. The only thing that keeps me going is my beautiful daughter, who is even more of a miracle baby than we ever realized. And knowing that she deserves a good mommy, and a good life, and every opportunity we can give her and me crawling under a rock and crying for the rest of my life isn’t going to do her any good. The other thing that keeps me going is my amazing husband. Seriously you should all be jealous because I have the best one. Ever. He never left my side in the hospital unless they made him. He held my hand every second he could. He hugged me and he let me wake him up crying at 4 am. He slept in the most uncomfortable reclining chair next to my hospital bed the night we had our son so I could hold his hand all night. Not to mention the other nights he slept on their half couch bed so I wouldn’t have to spend one second of any of this alone. He has slept the last 3 nights on the couch with me because it hurts to much to sleep in our bed. And now today one week after we got the worst news of our life. He woke up at 6:30 am and went to work. He is hurting too. I know his heart hurts so much. I’m trying my best to be here for him when he breaks down. But mostly he is here for me and our daughter. He has done almost everything with her since we came home from the hospital. Bathing, feeding, playing, cleaning up after her. Not to mention cleaning the house and doing laundry and taking care of me. Now he went back to work because we can’t afford for him not too. I can’t imagine what it’s like for him to go back to work, I can’t hardly write this so that it will make sense to anyone but me, but he’s going to work. Like I said. He is the best. Ever. Period. End of story. Last night I tried to hug him and tell him how much I appreciated everything he has done for me and our family and that I couldn’t have made it through any of this without him. I wanted to make sure he knew how amazing he is. But instead of any of that I just cried while he told me how amazing he thought I was. He said I’m the strongest person he knows, and we will get through this together, and he loves me more than anything in the world. All I could do was cry. I had a thousand things in my head I was trying to tell him but all I could get out was “I love you” and he knew everything I was trying to tell him. He truly is my best friend. My soul mate. Anyway I guess I just needed to get somethings out of my head and Ben has been telling me for a long time that I need to write a blog so I figured now was a good a time as any to start. If anyone actually does read this I’m sorry if it is scattered all over the place. That’s how my brain is functioning right now.