For weeks, I've been trying to decide what I was going to write on September 17th, the day that my first baby was supposed to be born. It's obvious that I never posted anything. I just couldn't put to words how sad I was, how empty I felt. It was too difficult to explain how I was feeling absolutely terrible and okay at the same time. All day, and every day since I've gotten pregnant again, I knew that everything was going to work out and that the little pumpkin I have growing up inside of me now is going to be amazing. I just couldn't put it all to words.
So, there it is. The day came, I survived. I went to work, I got to meet a friend's precious little miracle in the NICU (who is doing amazingly well and will someday marry our daughter, by the way), and went home to the husband. It was supposed to be a special day, but it wasn't.
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