Thirty one weeks.
Six weeks left.
Anxiety is ramping up because I remember being here last year.
But now it’s so different; filled with sadness and less excitement. Anxiety and less happiness. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, but I can’t even allow myself to think that.
I look at the count down and it says 42 days until you’re born; your sister died with only 7 days left on her countdown.
Seven days.
One week.
I don’t feel safe yet, and I never will.
We have an ultrasound in the morning and I am so excited to see you.