I remember this day like yesterday. In fact, I remember every day of my pregnancy so visually because I never took a day for granted. Every week, on a Monday I would be another week pregnant. 15 weeks, 20 weeks, 35 weeks. Every week I'd say "we made it to * weeks!" And ted would high five me. We knew we were lucky, we knew we were blessed. Some people struggle to carry a baby past 8 weeks, past 20 weeks so we always thought of them and counted ourselves thankful each week. We never took a moment for granted so why did it have to be us that lost our baby? I remember when I made it to 38 weeks I couldn't believe it. It was the first time all anxiety ceased because I knew now that if baby came any day that he would be okay. Everything would be fine. I still can't believe that I just never thought anything could go wrong after birth. How could a perfect pregnancy end so horribly? Even when you were born. Our world was perfect for a while. Everything seemed well, everything seemed fine. I even managed to phone my family 4 hours post birth that we gave birth to you and everything was good. I was so proud of myself. I endured the drug free labour I craved to give you the best start in life. 5 hours post birth our world changed, you became sick. 3 days later you lost that battle. I feel like I live my life in a constant replay, rewinded right back to before I had a child. Yet I had a baby, but your just not here.