There is a video somewhere in my house that shows me getting clothes from my dryer on the night that Kenley died. Shane got the camera charged and was talking to her, showing her around the house. He came to me and said “We’re going to meet you tonight! There you are in Mommy’s belly!”…. I have never watched this video, and honestly I don’t know where it is.

I have a feeling that Shane knows where it is; I’m almost positive that he has watched it.

I think about that video and I want to puke. I want to scream at myself; jump through the tv screen and shake myself. STOP PACKING! GO TO LABOR AND DELIVERY ASAP!!! GO NOW! YOUR BABY IS DYING AND YOU’RE PACKING A HOSPITAL BAG???

GO AS FAST AS YOU CAN. YOU NEED TO SAVE HER LIFE.

It makes me sick…like physically ill thinking about it.Why didn’t I go to Labor and Delivery earlier? I took Landon to my mother in laws at 9 am…yet I didn’t go to L&D until damn near 6pm.

I know the moment she died. What a fucking terrible feeling to live with. Think you’re having a bad day? Just be thankful you don’t carry that burden with you.

I was so happy to be packing my hospital bag. I wanted nothing more than to have my daughter born, and be able to have some nice photos of us afterward. With Landon I went into the hospital completely unprepared and with nothing, so I knew that with Kenley it would be different.

If I only fucking knew, right? If I only knew then what I know now. I would have asked for that extra NST test, even though the NP told me I was fine. I would have insisted even though she said everyone had “checked out mentally” that day because it was 2 days before Christmas. I just blindly trusted her? Why? Why did I believe that she knew what was going on inside of me. I should have told her about the weird pain (Kenley’s foot underneath my rib cage for sure).  I would have asked for extra scans. I would have insisted on a c-section at 38 weeks like I asked for in the first place…only to be told that they don’t do “elective” sections before 38 weeks.

I hope that the doctors in that office are haunted by their choices regarding my care. Like forever. I hope that it wakes them up at night and they feel sick.

but you know what? I know it doesn’t. I know they probably don’t even think of her anymore. She was just another “patient” to them. To me, I lost the love of my life…to them, it was just someone else’s problem.

It has been 2 years and 8 months today, yet it feels like yesterday and a lifetime ago at the same time. Time is a weird thing after you lose a child; it makes you dizzy and catches you off guard. I feel like I am constantly in a fog, and never really truly know what day it is. I don’t think I have since the day she died.

She should almost be 3 years old. Entering preschool possibly? I don’t let my mind go there. If I don’t allow my mind to think these things, I feel that I’m protecting my heart, but then deep down my conscious is like no you’re not protecting your heart you’re doing her a disservice by suppressing her. But am I really suppressing her? I’m pretty sure that I’m not? I’m pretty sure that I’m literally doing what I need to do in order to fucking survive.

Surviving without a child is THE WORST fucking thing in the world, I’m pretty damn sure of it.

I miss her and I didn’t even get to see her grow up. What a crazy mind fuck that is. I never heard her voice. I never heard her breathe, or saw her beautiful eyes. I never watched her chew on her tiny little fingers. I never got to feel her warmth on my chest; both of us feeling safe. I felt panicked and alone and scared and vulnerable and lost….And, she felt nothing. Ever.