A week gone by, and then some.

It has been a little over one week since we said goodbye to our precious baby girl. It is absolutely unreal how completely upside down our lives have been turned in such a short time. 

I have had days where I have it together, playing outside with the kids, I even cooked breakfast for everyone one morning. Then I have days when I can't stop the tears from falling, I am just so utterly broken. Sunday was one of those days. I just cuddled up with the blanket my mom crocheted for Simone, the one we wrapped her up in. It's so hard waking up every morning without the slightest idea of how hard it might be to get through the day. 

On Friday, Lane took Gabriela and Easton to park day. It was the first time I was alone. I missed him terribly, but took some time to pour my heart out in some thank you notes. 

Yesterday was the first time I left the house, other than going to the funeral home. I felt so strange and anxious traveling on the freeway, knowing the last time I had done so was a quiet, nervous ride to the hospital. We took the kids to their dentist appointment, where the sweet, well-meaning hygienist said I looked like I was due any day. Completely caught off-guard, I mumbled that I already had the baby and walked away. She apologized to me later and hugged me, but she had no idea. What do I tell people? The truth? That our baby died and we had to leave her at the hospital. I don't want to burden strangers with our reality. 

I have been sleeping better, though the other night I dreamed about Simone. She was still in my belly, active as ever, I could even see her little footprint under my belly, and I just knew the doctors were all wrong. My baby was alive. 

And while I feel so deeply the loss of my sweet baby in so much of my body, some how my breasts have no idea and are trying desperately to make milk for Simone. I never thought I would be trying to stop milk production. I nursed our other two kids for nearly two years each. This has been physically and emotionally painful. Like some cruel joke. It's been about a week though, and things seem to be improving. 

We have had to explain to Gabriela how Simone's body is being turned into ashes       She doesn't want me to give back the cloth diapers friends have so generously lent us, and she has put her head to my belly asking, "hey, uterus! Grow me a new baby sister!"

Easton asked, "why you take baby sister's car seat away?" and has mastered his new job as comforter and hug giver extraordinaire. 

Through this all, Lane, my sweet husband, has been truly amazing. He has been taking care of me, the kids, and the house. I know he is hurting just as much as I am. He has been so comforting, making me feel safe and loved and assuring me that we will get through this together. We have a hard road ahead of us, full of sadness and healing. I know it won't ever stop hurting, but eventually the pain won't be as intense. 

Our family and friends have been so supportive. Someone has visited us every day since we came home from the hospital. Yesterday was our first day on our own. We have been fed, our kids are being cared for and entertained, and people have been here to just hug and cry to and listen. It feels so strange to say this, but we are so fortunate. There is so much love surrounding us. 

Today my kids' books on grieving arrived. One in particular is truly perfect; I am looking forward to reading and talking it through with Gabriela. She asks everyday why Simone died and angrily announces that she didn't want her to. Nobody did, baby. Sometimes we hear Gabriela making up songs in the other room with lyrics like, "she was so special, even though we had to say goodbye and we cried, sometimes your sister doesn't live" so I know she is processing what has happened to her as well. 

Tomorrow we have a home visit from our midwife and we are also going to a SAND meeting (Support After Neonatal Death). I hope they can offer us the support we need, and figured it can't hurt to try. 

Each day we continue to receive touching cards from friends and family. The sweet offers, gifts, thoughts and love all show how Simone has somehow touched so many people in her short time here. 

We miss you every day, sweet Simone, and wish you were here in our arms instead.