You may need tissues

I struggle sometimes, finding the "right" way to share Gracie. To talk about her. I don't want people to feel uncomfortable. But I want to talk about her. I need to remember her. Her memory is all I have of her.

When a child is lost, through miscarriage, still birth or infant death, there is so much more than "medical waste" or a body that is buried. The hopes and dreams that come with the second line on the pregnancy test are lost. The first smile, first tooth, learning to walk, learning to talk. The chubby cheeks. And even the not so pleasant things. The screaming, the late nights, the "NO!"s, the messes. And even the fears. "What if I screw up this parent thing?" "Is she getting a fever?" "If I leave her in her bed for 5 minutes, can I take a shower without her realizing I am out of the room?" All these moments that will never be. I would give anything to have those.

I don't have those moments. All I have are memories, pictures and items in our memory box. (Well, actually it is more like a tote. One box didn't quite have all the room we needed.) Memories, pictures, items and one video. One moment. 26 seconds frozen in time.

There are no more words to lead into this: