When I'm in the NICU, holding Harper, feeling her soft warm body, letting her little hands hold my finger, staring into her sweet face, it all seems so easy. How can I not love that tiny little creature that we made? She's a baby, She's my baby and she's beautiful.
But now I'm home. And I can't stop crying. Crying for the baby I lost, the little normal child I planned to bring home. The problematic bean who was going to need lots of fixes - the heart, the feet, the NICU, but was going to be FIXED and would go on to live happily ever after.
I want that baby back. I don't want the child that will need endless hours of medical attention. That will never live independently. That will self-abuse, and bite, and hit, and not talk, or need diapers in elementary school, or all of the other terrifying things I've read about.
I WANT MY BABY. The one I dreamed about. The one who no longer exists. Please oh please oh please, why can't I have that baby back? Why isn't Harper that baby?
I don't think I can do this. Everyone says how strong we are, how strong I am. I don't want to be strong. I just want to be a mommy. Like I'm Shea's mommy.
Oh, Harper, why couldn't you have come home? So that when I feel like this I can look into that sweet face and remember that I'm supposed to love you. That you are still my baby.
I wish I could stop crying.
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