fuck, i don’t even know what to say.
i want to run to the top of camelback mountain and curse at the clouds.
i want to scratch the sun from the sky, for who needs it?
i want to grab the stars from the sky and weave them up tight to blind the truth.
trying to imagine the unimaginable loss of your own baby is numbing. it stops you in your tracks. it takes your breath away.
living it is an infinity’s amount worse than you thought it might be.
my mama lost her first baby 3 hours after she was born to a birth defect she found out about a week before she had sweet baby dorrie lou.
she never did talk about it much, but when i ask her to tell my older sister’s story, she’s more than happy to tell me what i wonder about.
heather tells maddie’s story every day with grace, beauty, dignity, love, and a heart full to bursting with such sorrow. i send all the love i can to her and mike and their families tonight, before i wake up on the 7th to face the day that many of us have come to dread for them.
i love you guys and will never forget your maddie.
