Today was suppose to be my daughter’s due date. I am embarking on this project in her honor. I haven’t shared the name of my daughter, and I am hesitant to do so. The name we choose for her is a trigger for me, but a name that means more to me now than it did before we said goodbye. If I am blessed with a second daughter I plan to give this name, in her memory and in her honor.
Every since my loss, I have been different. I have found myself appreciating my alone time much more. I have pulled away from toxic friends and stopped reaching out to peripheral friends; friendship that lack the connection I need right now. This is probably a good thing. At times I do feel lonely. I feel like I have to fake small talk when all I really want to do is talk about my daughter or about how my second child, the one I am pregnant with now, feels in comparison.
I hoped to be welcoming a baby girl today. I have hoped she would of grown up with her father’s loyalty, remarkable ability to socialize with anyone and ambition. I had hoped she would have her mother’s affectionate and quiet disposition. I hope she would of encompassed all the great qualities of her mother and father while not inheriting the negative. I hoped she would of known how to treat people and to be happy. I hoped she would of been healthy and happy.