Some nights I cannot stop the tears that come. They may rush out of nowhere, or show up because of a soft and perfect song. Sometimes they are welcome and are accompanied by sweet memories of those brief moments.  They may come because another woman lost her baby the I recall that pain, and my heart BREAKS for her because she has to know it too. No matter the reason, sometimes the hurt just hits and there is nothing I can do but FEEL IT. And.it.still.hurts. I long to hold my daughters. I grieve for them each, in different ways and in different times. Sometimes the tears come so fast they burn my eyes and I'm not quick enough to stop them or hide them. Sometimes I don't care to do either. That's when I sit, just me and my tears and some music and just let it all out. I cry. A lot. And when I think I'm done, I might cry a little more. Then I will crawl into bed, next to the man I love most in this world, and I will fall asleep with his arm around me as I damped his chest.

 I'm not fishing for sympathy, I have a special group of ladies I can cry to anytime I need to. This is just a reminder. A reminder that this is never over. Often times the general public seems to think that it's all better and we've healed up nicely. That's just not true. While there is healing, we are never fully healed on this earth. There is a broken-ness inside that you can't see, as we keep it well hidden and share it with few.  The effects of baby/child loss is more far reaching than you can imagine, unless you wear these shoes, and I pray you never do. 

It's been nearly 4 years since I kissed my little girl goodbye. I laid Ila Claire's lifeless little body into the hands of a sweet and loving nurse and she walked away. With.my.baby. That moment, the memory of that moment nearly brings me to my knees.  The quiet was only broken by the click of the door and then my uncontrollable sobs. Finality. Pain. OH God that PAIN.  I thought that was going to be the worst of it.