You know, it's strange. All of our other angel's due dates have been spent thinking about how my day could have gone, should have gone. Of course, few babies are actually born on their due dates, but it represents something so absolutely vital to having a living, breathing little human being to hold in your arms.
But Elizabeth was born. Less than a month before she would have reached viability. Today doesn't represent her birthday because she has a birthday. Today represents my failure, the enormous gap between when she would have been ready to be born and when she was born. ... and I have no idea how to mark this shitty, shitty occasion.
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