Well, I survived yet another March 23rd. It was pretty much a nothing day so that’s good. March 23rd is the day we lost our first son, Kristofer. It isn’t the day of his birth, since he never had the chance of being born and it isn’t the day of his death, since he was never technically (medically) alive. Although he lived inside of me. He kicked me. He moved inside of me. He came out of me. But bleh. It’s just another day of my life.
So, March 23rd is just simply known as Kristofer’s day to me. And I’ve lived through the day for the last 16 years with no incident.
I do, however (just so you know,) love my children a little more that day. Try to yell a little less on that day and always take a moment to remember what it was like to carry Kristofer inside of me for the short 22 weeks that I was allowed to. I take out the few ultrasound pictures that I have of him and think of what could have been and have gratitude for what I do have.