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. 

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