Jealousy

Its an ugly thing jealousy... a feeling that doesn't make anyone feel good.
No one is immune from an occasional jealous streak, some people can hide it better than others.
Most of the time I can, usually I'm really good about not letting little things get to me when it comes to jealousy.
Things like a skinny pretty girl, or someone having the phone I really really want.
Little petty things are no big deal.

Shrug and move on.

Angel moms who got the chance to hold or see or be with their babies, get photos, and cuddle time, and a funeral or a final goodbye...
That's one of those things I have a hard time shrugging and moving on from.
The jealousy I have over that- it's paralyzing in the worst way.
I'm so happy that those mom's got that, I honestly am.
I just wish I had gotten that same opportunity.
A final goodbye- maybe I wouldn't hurt this way, having more closure and a formal goodbye.
I would never wish for a stillbirth, never, but a very sad part of me would prefer it over a miscarriage...
Does that make me a horrible person? Either way I'd have an angel...

I don't know.

Photos- photography means so much to me, as it does to many others. Pictures to hold on to forever would be so incredible. I would kill for that. To hold and kiss my child, and have that all documented. Proof, more than anything photos are proof my child existed...

I don't have that.

I don't have anything really. Some material items that are sad ghosts of what they should be.
A baby blanket that has never held a child.
A onesie that has never been worn.
Toys that have never been played with.
Sad husks of what they should be, what they are meant to be.
What I do have? I have grainy ultrasound photos, and memories.

Memories are worth everything.

They're all I have.
Memories.
Naming my little girl, cuddling the teddy bear the hospital gave me...
Arguing names for James with D...
Finding out I was pregnant with Daniel...
D telling Daniel stories while we were cuddling in bed...
The looks D gave me and how worried he looked when I was walking down my apartments terrifying stairs.
I only talk about the good memories- the bad ones make me feel sick to my stomach. My memories are precious, but I find myself wishing for more.

Always wishing for more.