Today I went from 800 mg of ibuprofen to 600 mg and survived.

Today I took the protective strips off my incision in the shower, pulling slowly, hoping I wouldn’t pass out, throw up or burst open at the seams.

Today I showed my mother Benjamin’s pictures, footprints, hat.

Today I cried. I retold the story of Wednesday two weeks ago. How I woke up, realized I was bleeding again. Lay down and waited. Went back to check and thought “oh that’s not too bad”. Lay back down and within moments, got back up again, knowing something was very wrong. I remember the shock of the amount of blood, the size of the clot. I remember thinking “Oh God, I have to leave Ada again” and “Thank God I’m not alone”. I remember running down the stairs to get Tom, then back up again, my body shaking and super charged with fear and survival instinct. I think I looked at Ada sleeping and told her I’d be back, needing it to be true.

I almost called 911. Tom drove quickly through the early morning darkness. I phoned Labor and Delivery to let them know I was on my way. If it had been tonight, instead of two weeks ago, they might have gotten me up there faster. They might not have tried so long to find the heartbeat. They might have moved me into surgery immediately. If it had been tonight instead of two weeks ago, Benjamin might have lived.

But it’s not tonight. And I can’t change what is.

I just didn’t expect this. I’m still wrapping my head around the reality of it. As I crawl into bed next to my sweet sleeping daughter, I am incredibly grateful to be alive.