Broken

It's 2:11 a.m. I took two sleeping pills, yet I am still awake.

I'm still trying to come to terms with what has happened. I keep going back to Thursday morning, wondering if there is anything I could've done differently to save my baby.

I carried him one day short of 39 weeks. He was full term. Ready to come out and live outside my womb. His clothes were all ready for him. His brothers were anxiously counting the days until his arrival.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. He should've been home right now, ready for his 2 a.m. feeding. Latched onto my breast. Falling asleep in my arms. We were ready for him.

My arms feel so empty. I miss him. I miss his little kicks inside me. A piece of my heart is missing. I can't believe he's gone. I never even got to see his eyes.

I don't know how I'm going to make it through this. The days go by so slowly. I need him.

I'm broken.

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