This morning, I was upstairs in our closet, unpacking a few clothes that I had stuffed away to make room for maternity clothes. I could hear my boys playing downstairs. Then I had this vision of Justin downstairs with both kids, with Lydie in her bouncer watching her big brother, letting out a little whine, and Justin shouting up the stairs, "Heather! Lydie's getting hungry!" And I reply, "I'm coming!"
It feels good for a moment, to let my mind wander to what-could-have-been, what-should-have-been. But it hurts so bad to bring myself back to reality, to remind myself that my daughter is dead, and that vision is never, ever going to happen.