It’s been 730 days since I said goodbye to my first baby. 17,520 hours. That’s a lot of hours.
I can’t believe it has been two years. Two fucking years. The longest and shortest years of my life (isn’t weird how the years pass quickly as the days pass slowly?) Sometimes I look back and wonder how I even survived those first few days. Monday morning I went in for my scan; 48 hours later I was on my way to the hospital in Boston for the procedure. It all went up in smoke that quickly. I remember it, but in a fuzzy sort of way. Almost like when I sift through those memories it’s akin to scenes from a movie, not my actual life.
Two years and I’m still missing my baby, except now it’s babies. Still waiting for a miracle of my own. Still waiting for the elusive “happy ending” that Cinderella and Snow White promised us all.