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Oh the pain. Oh the hurt. I just want to curl up and look at instagram photos of my baby all day long. I want to send them and resend them, as if there are enough memories available to fill the void of never knowing her favorite song, her favorite color, her favorite food, what makes her laugh. But no, that is not even what I want to do, I want to rewind, to return to Monday where we were playing and enjoying dinner with friends and snuggling sweet baby Shaundi.
I’m so connected to my online world that it doesn’t seem natural to not tweet out every single thought, to snap every single photo of our pain, but what good would that do? It’s so raw, so heart ripping, so awful that there is just no good behind my hurt. Sharing our lives has made me a better person, I’ve met the best people by doing so and yet, this horrible, terrible thing just doesn’t have the words to share, doesn’t bring about photographs that are visible to the naked eye. There’s just no instagram filter called “pain”.
I am sorry we haven’t shared the details, the hows, the whys. One reason is that we don’t know. This could take weeks, months. One reason is that it just doesn’t matter.
The only good right now are the people that have been placed in our lives. I’m sure there’s more good but that pain filter in my life right now is just too distorting, too ugly.