Today is my due date. It's raining, gray, dreary, like my mood. I marked my calendar "Baby Time!"
I can't believe how fast the months have gone by. My clothes never grew tighter, my belly never grew larger. I spent the last week wading in grief, torn between sadness and anger. I wondered if this one would've come in May.
I planted the marigolds, October's birth flower, a symbol of grief. The tiny pumpkin is still sitting in the flower pot. I don't want to throw it away just yet. It feels wrong. I decided to bind off the blanket I started and leave it as-is, small and unfinished, like my sweet baby I'll never know. All this time, I've had it in a box in the corner of my closet, out of site. The last time I had touched it was when I started bleeding. I don't know what I'm going to do with it, but it's my only tangible piece of my grief.
I can't believe how fast the months have gone by. My clothes never grew tighter, my belly never grew larger. I spent the last week wading in grief, torn between sadness and anger. I wondered if this one would've come in May.
I planted the marigolds, October's birth flower, a symbol of grief. The tiny pumpkin is still sitting in the flower pot. I don't want to throw it away just yet. It feels wrong. I decided to bind off the blanket I started and leave it as-is, small and unfinished, like my sweet baby I'll never know. All this time, I've had it in a box in the corner of my closet, out of site. The last time I had touched it was when I started bleeding. I don't know what I'm going to do with it, but it's my only tangible piece of my grief.
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