73 weeks
516 days
12,384 hours
743,040 minutes
44,582,400 seconds
since I was told that I had lost my son.
April is always a bitter sweet month
James and I had announced we were having him on our birthday,
not knowing that things were going to end so horribly.
This April we also did our annual trip home, and Carters sip and see.
The morning of which I was a mess
getting on everyone and everything (ask my manfriend and my meatball Im sorry you know I love you both)
it was honestly the anxiety finally coming up from the depths of wherever I was hiding it.
I was celebrating having had Carter at the same house where I had once celebrated what was supposed to be the upcoming arrival of Bug.
It was also a flashback of pretty much all the same people at both events, which was weird,
but in the background I could occasionally hear Carters coos and crying breaking through the chatter.
Im not gonna lie I had a lump in my throat the entire party,
but like always, I did a damn good job of not totally breaking down and crying.
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