Kalli, Lindsey, and Morgan are all friends and work together at Breathe Birth Care. They took their photos together, but I wanted to give them each a separate post to share their story.
My baby died.
“At least you were so early, that makes it easier.”
“At least you are young.”
“At least you didn’t get too attached.”
At least.
At least.
At least.
STOP.
MY BABY DIED.
I could feel my body changing.
She was rearranging.
Turning from body to home.
My partner and I celebrated with a kiss, or ten.
I had been planning, preparing, anticipating, and waiting.
And then, blood.
Lot’s of blood.
I crumpled.
I wept.
My body contracted and aborted, this tiny new thing I had just begun to love.
I had read about this.
Rationally I knew how common this was.
Rationally I knew this baby would have never survived life outside of the womb.
Rationally.
But no amount of rationality would conceal the pain.
No amount of rationality could prepare for this breath-taking moment.
No amount of rationality could help me see clearly.
My baby died.
And a part of me died with her.
Photos Taken By Nicholas Chason.
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