Whoever said time heals didn't lose a child...

It has been so long since I posted last and I don’t feel like I can do Sophie justice at the moment. Life moves so fast…so much goes on, and I know I am not able to give her the attention she deserves or that attention I need to give her. I think about her all day every day, I just have not felt like writing about it for a long time now. Writing used to help me, make me stronger, pass the time and in some small way make her real and keep her closer, but there is something missing inside me. It’s been 2 years 3 months and 3 days and I still feel dead inside and I have realised there is just no way around it.

Time has not healed any wounds.. that is all bullshit. I have learnt to put the pain in a box when people are around and bring it out when I am alone. It still hurts like hell that we don’t have our beautiful daughter here because of a medical fuck up. It hurts like hell we will never hear her laugh or see her smile or even see the colour of her eyes… god I want that… I want so much more than we were even given and that just sucks and I really don’t know how or if that will ever be fixed. There is no good in any of this. She is not here and I am so sad, so lost and so not able to hug her. We are not the people we were.. I am certainly not the person I was when I was pregnant. I just hope that my husband still remembers the carefree wife he married because most days she is non existent.

When I wake up in the morning I see her photos, her hand and feet casts, her birth certificate on a special wall right all beside our bed. I still wish with everything in those first few seconds as I focus on the room that I have I could hear her cry and wake me up in my sleep 10 time... but I sleep through and nothing changes.

We go to the beach with our 4 legged children often and while I watch them play in the sand every time I imagine Sophie playing right there with them, giggling while the water catches her and shrieking at the puppies playing in the sand. When I go out shopping there are always a million 2 year olds running around and oodles of newborns I long for. I see Sophie at both ages now and I am not sure that helps at all. I see clothes I would have bought her and toys I know she would have liked but I can’t buy any of them. I imagine how her bedroom would have looked, the nursery we never had the chance to set up, the cot we had to hide, the cradle which now sits in our bedroom with sadness but a hint of hope. Why us? I don’t pretend to be Miss Innocent but my husband deserves the best of everything and I can’t give him any of it. I hate that I cannot carry anymore… I hate it and I hate myself because of it more than anyone could ever imagine. But I will take a breath…

Tuesday was the day we have been waiting for for what seems like an eternity. Tuesday as I wrote this this there was a committee meeting to decide if we are ‘allowed’ to use our embryo’s with our wonderful Surrogate. We hope to give Sophie a sibling to guide, to love and flicker her angel wings around when we least expect it. I am so nervous… nervous about the outcome and the fact that we won’t find out for another week if we were approved and this whole experience is probably why I have been focusing less on writing and treasuring my little Sophie Cleo. While I am still not talking to the man upstairs for obvious reasons I will be saying a prayer this week… please get us through.. not for me for my beautiful Adrian...he deserves a break.