I think your Aunt Alexis* worries about me. I worry about me. I am going through the motions, but inside I feel helpless. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Sometimes I can turn on the TV, or start looking at something on the internet, and I can almost forget. I wonder if that’s disloyal to your memory. Sometimes I can even laugh. I still feel hollow.
I wake up in the mornings, and I just want to hear you cry. The midwife said that would be the hardest part of the birth, that I wouldn’t hear you cry. I think it’s the hardest part of everything. I think sometimes I only get out of bed because I want to make your milk. I need something to give me purpose, something to make sure I don’t forget about you. I could never forget about you.
I have the funeral to keep me busy now, but that’s over on Tuesday. Your Aunt leaves soon after that. What happens then? How will I stay sane?
I would never write these things if I thought you would read them. I tried to keep everything positive for you. I wanted your world to be beautiful. You were the very best part of mine.
I promised you I would take care of myself. I eat, and pump, and bathe. I washed my sheets yesterday. I do these things for you. I find purpose in your memory until I can find something in myself. You are worth anything. I love you.
* Names have been changed to protect privacy.