Friday, March 4, 2016


I'm starting to think I've completely lost my mind. Is any of this worth it? I think people forget that I said goodbye to my daughter only 8 short weeks ago. Which for me, feels more like 8 minutes ago.

I'm still raw and the pain still lingers. I can still feel the oxygen being sucked out of my lungs as I heard the words, "Your daughter won't survive." I can still feel the warmth of my tears as I asked James to take one last picture of my belly in the cold hospital bathroom. I can still hear the desperation in James's voice as he said his last goodbye. I can still feel my stomach drop in the elevator as I left the hospital empty-handed. I still touch my stomach throughout the day to remind myself that she's really gone. Newborn faces and pregnancy announcements on my newsfeed still make me cry. I still can't look at my daughter's urn that's inside a box on James's nightstand. I've only looked at it once, weeks ago. My unwashed maternity clothes still hang in my closet because I can't find the strength to wash something that was once so close to my daughter.

I should be 27 weeks pregnant and glowing. Not fighting a fight I never wanted to fight.

I feel like I'm at a crossroads with myself and I don't even recognize the reflection in the mirror. The Hadleigh I was before January 5th was passionate about what she believed in. She was confident and thick-skinned. She spoke her mind, regardless of the consequences. She would have never quit because it got hard. As a friend jokingly put it, she was a "bad-ass bitch." But here I am, exposed and vulnerable, asking myself, "What difference can one voice make?"

It's easy to get caught up in the politics of it all, picking a side and then defending it. But this isn't about some political stance or what you think you would have done in my situation. I had a daughter and she died. And it's terribly painful and sad losing anyone you love, regardless of how it happened. 

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about the type of mother I would have been to a little girl. I only know the mother I am to Joe, and I know she would have changed me. Trucks would have been traded for dolls. All of those cute little dresses at Target would have finally made their way into my shopping cart. She would have been dressed head to toe in lace and florals. But more importantly, I would have made it a point to tell her she's beautiful every single day. I would have made sure she had confidence and self-worth. I would have done everything in my power to raise her to be a strong woman, because in a world full of people who are cruel and judgmental, who are too coward to speak their own truths...I would have wanted my daughter to be a bad-ass bitch.

And so I press on.

Perhaps I have lost my mind...or maybe  I'm just starting to find it.