I'm just pretending I'm ok

Sometimes I just hate my life so much more because it seems to have fallen back into the routine we had before I was pregnant with Mackenzie. I hate that we just have to go on with our lives just like it was before she existed. And yet there is evidence that she existed.

There's the most beautiful nursery that a baby girl could have. A nursery I can hardly stand to walk into because I know that it will never serve it's purpose.

There are pictures of her. Pictures that sometimes warm my heart and sometimes break it. I love her face. She was so beautiful. Her face was so round...chubby even. My mom said she had "a little cherub face." Like an angel. Now she is an angel. I hate that I will never see her again. I hate that I will never see what she looks like at 6 months, 1 year, 5 years, etc. I hate it. I hate hate hate it.

There are stretch marks ALL OVER my body. She was a big girl. 9lbs 7oz. But her mommy also ate a lot. I hate that they are there to remind me of what I lost. I love that they are there as proof she existed.

There are my maternity pictures. A framed set hangs over our TV and another hangs on the wall beside our bed. She was in my belly. She was alive. Why isn't she alive now?

But, most of all there is an emptiness that aches in my heart. My body, mind, and soul knows there is something missing. That something is not right. I'm incomplete without her. A piece of me is missing. A big piece. The most important piece.

Just a few minutes ago I laid my head on my husband's chest while he was sleeping and heard his heart beating. I immediately thought of Mackenzie. Why wasn't her heart beating? We went for our last ultrasound and they couldn't find her heartbeat. Why? Now I feel like my heart beats in vain. In spite of myself. I would give up my heartbeat if only hers would.

I love you with all my heart baby girl...what's left of it.