It's officially six months since Wylie's birth.
It's been six months since we said goodbye and let the funeral home take her away, my sweet baby girl dressed in her brother's first-night-home layette gown. At the last minute, I asked to keep her hat. It still has tiny little blood stains on part of it from her birth. Sometimes I just like to breathe it in and remember how beautiful she looked in it, although not what I planned when we ordered it after our anatomy scan.
It's been six months since our lives changed forever. Six months since we became parents to a child who was no longer alive.
It's been six months. Half of a year. So much has happened but so much has felt paused, like time just couldn't trudge forward any longer.
Half of a year. So long and yet the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the years ahead of me without her.
Six months today since Ethan became the big brother he desperately wants to be and yet cannot be all the same.
Six months of advocating for her. Six months of understanding the depths of the human heart.
Six months today. It's so hard to believe.
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