On January 18th my heart shattered into a million pieces, I found out my 23 week old baby boy whom I'd felt move inside me and already loved with all my heart was dead. The next day I had to do the impossible, I had to deliver him. I remember hearing about one of my sister's friends losing her babies and thinking 'that can't happen to me I've already been through so much, I've already had to fight so hard for my children!'. I don't think like that anymore. I am forever changed. I see differently. I love differently. In some ways I've learned more of what it means to be a mother and love unconditionally in the death of my son than in the lives of my two children. Some of the most beautiful lessons in life are learned through the hardest experiences.
My heart is broken and may be forever, I'm okay with that. I am in the process of rebuilding it. I feel that there are two paths I can choose in this reconstruction. I can choose to become a hardened, bitter, cynical person, or I can choose to be a more loving, giving, compassionate one. Each day I have to fight for the latter. Some days I succeed and other days I fail miserably.