One year ago today, we were on our way home from Florida. We drove over night and were exhausted when we got home. We took a nap and dropped off the rental car. Then we got ready for a little get together for my father-in-laws birthday.
One year ago today, I felt the cramps. I walked into the bathroom and saw the blood.
One year ago today, I didn't want to accept what was happening so I laid back down. I laid in bed for hours. The party went on. Nick kept on checking on me.
One year ago today, I broke down and bawled in his arms. My mom come upstairs to comfort me and I couldn't stop crying.
One year ago today, we drove to the hospital. We waited for what seemed like an eternity to get called into the back. They drew blood, ran a pelvic exam, and finally took me back to get an ultrasound.
One year ago today, I laid on the bed getting my ultrasound done and knew why they wouldn't let me see my baby on the screen. And I cried some more.
One year ago today, a doctor came in an said the words I will never forget, "well, it looks like you're not pregnant anymore."
One year ago today, my world was crushed.
Some days I'm okay.
Some days I can't stop thinking of the baby I should be holding in my arms. The baby that would have been 5 months old right now. The baby that would have made Peyton an amazing big sister. The baby that I wasn't ready for at first, but that I wanted so bad it still hurts.
But today, I hurt.
Today, my heart aches.
Today, I wonder how much different my life would be if Baby B was here with us.
Today, I am not okay.
Today, I feel grief.
Today, I hold Peyton a little closer. I tell her I love her that much more. I cherish the moments I get to watch her grow and turn into an intelligent, witty, beautiful girl.
Today, I pray for guidance.
But tomorrow I will stand up and be strong because I know God has a plan for me. I know he blessed me with the short amount of time I held Baby B inside me for a reason. And because I know God has a plan for me, I know I'll be okay. Maybe not today, but I will be okay.


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