I hate my alarm clock. I’ve never been a morning person, but getting out of bed these days is just so much harder than ever before. When I’m asleep, I’m allowed to forget about reality. I’m allowed to be happy and free from this awful pain. Now, sometimes my dreams are just horrid nightmares and bitter reminders of our loss, but other times they are a sweet solace. Waking up each morning, getting out of bed, it’s like having to face the same horrible reality all over again. It wasn’t all just a bad dream, this is our life. There are brief moments when I first wake that I forget for a second. I reach my hand down to my stomach to rub my growing bump only to be hit with the reality that there is no longer a bump to rub. It’s like every morning I have accept all over again that Josh is no longer growing inside me, that he’s not in the next room waiting to be changed and fed. He’s gone. Every morning I have to remind myself all over again and every morning my heart breaks all over again and I’m stuck.


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