I love writing. I don’t do it nearly enough, I’m going to change that by starting this blog. I’m going to write about everything. I want to tell my story. It’s a crazy story, at some points terribly scary but there are also beautiful parts. I have learned to accept that all those horrible and wonderful things that happened brought me right here, sitting here missing and loving Lincoln. Lincoln is my youngest child. My last child. There was no child more wanted and loved. We were impatiently waiting on his arrival, counting down the weeks, he was growing perfectly. One day my husband and I went for a routine ultrasound and he was gone, his tiny body was still there in my belly but his sweet heart wasn’t beating. There were tons of complications during my pregnancy but we never gave up hope. After that very long first trimester was over I thought we were in the clear, I was sure if it. I was wrong. My water broke early on in the second trimester. Lincoln was born on October 4th 2016, one day before his sister’s second birthday. I had never felt that kind of pain before, it was all new. I wondered “how long am I going to be sad? Is this going to last forever? How do other people deal with this?” I got home from the hospital and didn’t get out of bed for weeks. There was a hurricane in our area that knocked out all of the power. I didn’t care, I barely even noticed. The cable went out, my husband asked me to call and ask when they were going to get the lines back up, I was SHOCKED when he told me we had been without cable for two weeks. I didn’t notice. I didn’t care about anything. I just wanted my son. I pumped his milk, wishing it was to help him grow. My husband was incredibly paitent, loving and supportive. Thank GOD for him. I made a little spot for him, his own little shelf with all kinds of things that remind me of him and his ultrasound pictures, there have been flowers on that shelf since the day I came home from the hospital without my baby. I don’t know when I’ll stop buying flowers for him, if I’ll ever stop. In the last couple of weeks I’ve been making a real effort to get myself together, be a wife and a mother to my living children because they deserve that. I’m certainly not my old self, I’ll probably never be my old self. I will move on and live my life and this pain will become bearable, I hope. I will never forget him and I will never stop loving him. Ever.