Reading Karen’s post about Emma, I realized its been a while since I’ve thought about her and about that experience. I used to think about it several times a day but as we get further away from it, the easier it is to have days and weeks pass without thinking about it. I don’t know if I like that. I don’t want to forget that experience (I know that sounds weird but its true) and I don’t want to forget her.
It was surreal while we were going through it, almost like it really wasn’t happening to us, like I was observing it happen to someone else.

I remember holding her while she drew her last breath, I remember how tiny she was… how it seemed like she wasn’t in the blanket because she was so light. And I remember the most painful part. Coming home without her, that hurt but watching Elizabeth realize that she was not going to have a little sister at home with her was far worse. We got home and then had my parents bring her and Luke back home (Luke was just under 2 and doesn’t remember.) Elizabeth came running into the living room all excited to see her new sister. We had to tell her that Emma wouldn’t be coming home, that she was born too early and had died at the hospital. She didn’t believe us, ran to the bedroom, turned on the light and saw the empty crib. That’s when it hit her, her sister would not be coming home. She came  running back to us, Karen embraced her. She cried, Karen  cried, I cried…
I will never forget that scene.