Day 2

It hasn’t been even 48 hours since he died. But every moment has gone so slowly. When I went to bed last night, it took so much effort not to become hysterical. I wanted to scream and light something on fire. I wanted to rage. It took so much effort to restrain myself. It took medication to sleep.

This morning, my husband and I had to go downtown to be interviewed, separately, by the police. An officer asked me all about my pregnancy with Brody, his delivery and what happened after he was born. I was devastated as I remembered how much I had done for my boy – I thought of memories that once were sweet and now tasted sour. Brody, I gave you everything. I loved you so well. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.

When we finally got home, we planned Brody’s funeral. I had to plan my baby’s funeral today.

Then I took Bryson outside to jump on the trampoline. Our neighbour and her daughter, Rowan, came out and we talked and the kids played. I pushed Rowan on the swing. I jumped on the trampoline with Bryson. I felt okay. I felt a bit of joy even. I felt like sweetness would be possible again, somehow, even if my heart hurt for the reality that I couldn’t share it, as I wanted to, with Brody.

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