I can’t sleep anymore, in the early morning hours. I wake up and remember everything all over again. Take my physical inventory. Still bleeding, check. Still unable to bend my arm easily from being on an IV for 5 days, check. Milk still present and making my life more painful, check. Our daughter died, check. It’s only been four days. Maybe it gets better.
In sleep, it feels like Dan is trying to protect me now. From physical harm, and also from sadness. He can’t, of course, but it helps a little. We’re doing this together, but I often wish we weren’t. This person I love so much, his daughter just died too. I know what that’s like, and I wish I could take this away for him. I wish his hopes and dreams for another child didn’t rely on me and my incompetent cervix.