When the rest of the world is sleeping and the moon and stars come out, I find myself wide awake. Laying in bed, curled up next to Erik, all I do is think. My mind never drifts off from me. Instead, it's always there. Pressing. The same scenes play out in my head over and over - every single night.
I think about my son. Every single hope and dream I could have ever imagined for him. The feel of his soft skin against my beating heart. The anguish I felt after placing him inside the casket at the hospital. What it would have been like to breastfeed. The nurse who told me to "calm down" a few hours after birth - because she had a preemie and her baby turned out just fine.
Every night. The same moments come to me and never go. They are permantently etched into my soul forever.
As I turn on my side, my hands reach for my stomach. A lot of nights, I still imagine I can hold my growing belly and feel his sweet and gentle kicks.
But, there's nothing for me to feel. No blanket to swaddle my beautiful baby in. No bassinet close to my side. All I have are empty echoes of what should be. What could have been.