The Mornings are Hardest

It has almost been exactly one week since we said "see you later" to our baby girl. She was born on Saturday April 5th at 1:20pm, and so we decided to let her go on the Sunday at 1:20pm. It was important to me to spend a full day with our daughter. I am realizing that this will never ever feel long enough, and I try not to regret spending more hours with her - even as her colour was fading and she began to turn colder.

As the week has passed, the mornings have gotten harder. I had prepared myself mentally to be waking up every 2-3 hours to the sound of a newborn cry. Instead, we go to bed at 2am, and sleep through until 9 and sometimes 10. I feel guilt for being annoyed that she used to keep me awake during the night in my pregnancy. I would give anything to be up all night with my baby. Brooklyn was always active in the morning when I was pregnant with her. So sometimes I expect to feel her moving around and kicking, only to remember that she is no longer physically with us. I feel like I am grieving the loss of both my pregnancy, and my beautiful daughter.

We sleep with Brooklyn's blanket every single night. I often smell it because it still has her scent. This morning I noticed that the scent is not as strong. I cried in fear that soon I wouldn't be able to smell her and consequently, wouldn't be able to mentally go back to those moments of holding her in my arms.

One day, when I am feeling stronger and have more energy, I will write the story of her labour and delivery. But today, I do not feel strong. Today, I feel envious of the parents who stayed up all night long with crying children and babies. Of parents who will be tired all day long, but still be able to hold their children at night. To comfort them, and care for them.