Before my daughter died

     Before my daughter died, I took a bath every other day, now I don’t remember the last time I showered. Before my daughter died I knew who I was now I don’t have any idea. Before my daughter died I thought I was a good mother now I feel like a failure. Before my daughter died I didn’t need medications just to get out of bed each day. Before my daughter died seeing new moms made me smile instead of cry. Before my daughter died I read stories to a smiling baby girl, now I read them to a cold, hard, metal heart filled with ashes. Before my daughter died I looked forward to my friends baby showers and first birthday parties with excitement and not dread.
     I wish I could go back to before my daughter died. I wish I had a screaming baby to keep me up at night. I miss the little girl who would nuzzle into my chest and wake up the moment I tried to set her down. I wish my house was a mess because Reason wouldn’t let me get anything done instead of me just not caring anymore. It’s so hard seeing baby girls, I can handle boys fairly well but bright blue eyes break my heart everytime. Somedays it’s hard to look into Frank’s even and the cowlicks I see on his head are the same ones she had. It’s been 10 weeks since I last saw her alive. She technically died on a Tuesday but Monday’s are harder. I’m not better yet. I think sometimes people get the idea that I am, I’ve just gotten better at playing make believe. I really don’t care whether people notice the knots in my hair or that I’ve been wearing the same clothes for a couple days now. What does it really matter anyway?

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