8 Months Too Late.

My heart hurts.

There's a good chance that we have some answers as to what happened with Brake.

There's a good chance that, had the Navy's pregnancy instruction been followed correctly, what happened might have been completely preventable. Or it would have at least happened much later.



I'm trying really hard to not be bitter. I'm trying really hard to not be angry. I'm trying really hard to not throw blame.

I'm failing miserably.


Even if it was preventable. Even if it is sorta someone's fault in even the slightest way. I don't want to blame them. I don't want to put that blood on their hands. I don't want to harbor those bad thoughts and bad feelings. I don't want that in my heart.

But when said person walked in at work this morning, my stomach immediately dropped. I thought I was gonna puke. I can't look at them. I almost made eye contact once, and I immediately almost puked again. Now every time I even think about not looking at them, all I can see is my little boy struggling in his fluid sac. I can't even picture the good things anymore. His perfect tiny fingers. His beautiful smile. How absolutely in love I was even though I knew he didn't stand a chance.


I don't know what to do.

My heart hurts so bad. 


Sometimes when you finally get the answers you've been seeking, even if it is 8 months too late, you realize that maybe you were better off without knowing. Or at least that's how it feels right now.