Sometimes I trick myself into thinking that what we’ve gone through wasn’t that big of a deal.
Annie only lived six months. Maybe I didn’t love her as much as I thought.
Then I look into Eliza’s eyes. I feel her little body curl into mine. I realize that I love her so much, I forget to breathe.
And then I remember.
It’s the bitterest-sweetest thing.
An unexpected blessing in my grief.
I remember just how much I loved her. Still love her.
Yes, it hurts. But it also heals.