hanging out in graveyards

We went to visit Oliver’s grave today. There is just a temporary marker, with his cute little picture, and a bunch of straw over where his body now resides. Every time we drive in to the cemetery, I think (and say), “I can’t believe this.”

I still cannot wrap my head around this reality. That my happy, joyful, chubby, hungry baby boy is buried in the dirt. This should not be. He was PERFECT. He should be here with me now. Nursing. Smiling. Laughing.

He had recently started laughing when I tickled him. It was honestly the cutest fucking sound I’d ever heard. I never did record it. But I can remember it pretty vividly. At least for now, I can.

I can’t believe this is my life. 20160618_101216

Author: unaffected

Infertile mother to a 4-year-old and a 1-year-old twinless twin. Surviving motherhood after infant loss.

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