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Photos courtesy of Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep photographer Rachel Nygren unless noted otherwise |
Just 11 weeks since we lost little Graham to heaven.
11 weeks since I got to cuddle his chubby little self.
11 weeks since his heart was beating inside of my own body.
11 weeks since we started missing Graham.
Sort of like before he was born, I'm finding myself in a floating place. There is no better way to describe it. For a while I was simply existing, waking multiple times a night to horrific nightmares of baby shaped bullets, watching him die again and again, or losing James and Brad in some freak accident. I stumbled around in pitch black grief, knowing Brad was somewhere in the darkness too, both of us struggling to keep up with James and life that kept moving further and further out of grasp. And now we're out of the dark and in a...fog? Sometimes everything is okay, other times I can pretend, and sometimes nothing is okay.
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photo taken by me |
I've had to take James to the doctor recently, and she asked if he has any siblings. I wasn't sure how to answer the question. Yes, he does...or he did. And if I say Graham, should I include our miscarriage too? Do I mention neither because they're not living? But if I say yes she'll want to know more, and will I start crying? Do I really want to have this conversation today? And why am I all sweaty? How long have I been silently staring at her? In the end I said that yes he did have a brother who passed shortly after birth this last May. She was shocked into silence for a few moments. Me too, lady, me too.
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photo taken by Brad |
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