Today I began thinking of what I am really mourning. I’m clearly mourning the potential. The idea. The what could have been. It was an early abortion so my baby hadn’t truly formed yet. It was just a lump of potential.

It’s like those boys I cried over in my early teens who never really were my boyfriends, just boys I had huge crushes on lots of hormones causing drama in my own little mind. Those tears were spilled over potential (possibly in my teenage head alone).

But I want that baby back today. I have a day off from work and am sitting in one of my favorite places on earth, a huge lush garden near our home. I woke up feeling almost normal, laughing over a strange dream I had. My baby’s father sent me a funny text and I sent back a pretty picture from where I was sitting. Then out of nowhere the picture of me sitting in this very spot nursing our baby peacefully popped into my head and I started sobbing. Right in front of a group of school children touring the garden from some far away norse land. Thank god for those big dark sunglasses in my purse.

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