As we arrived home after leaving the hospital, the house seemed so empty and foreign. This house which I fell in love with about two years prior, the same place I dreamed of bringing our babies home to, was so empty. Even our two little doggies were away at my parent's house. I hated that feeling of emptiness. It just didn't feel right, I was supposed to be carrying a diaper bag while Brian carried a car seat in and we were supposed to be coming home with the dogs greeting us and checking out the new little person in our lives. I dreaded all of the "firsts" in our new life, the first time to see our empty nursery, the first night back in our bed without my daughter kicking me all night, the first family gathering where I planned to show her off, the first trip back to the grocery store without going down the baby aisle, you get the idea. I knew that there were going to be a lot of new "firsts" in our lives and I was definitely not looking forward to them. However, I did want to face them head on because I knew in my heart that the first time will always be the hardest. I wanted to face it head on and get it over with. I was going to get through this, one way or another. Lillian will NOT be looking down at her mother who is falling apart. I want her to look down on us and be proud of us and know how much she is loved and missed.
So, going back to arriving home, we pulled into the driveway and parked in the garage. I was still pretty unsteady on my feet and really sore. Brian helped me out and walked me through the door. I looked around and saw that every single thing that I had bought or was related to a baby, was put away. My family had came over (with my permission and request) and put away ALL of our baby stuff. I cannot thank them enough for doing that for us. Still, it hurt. Not the fact that they did it, it was why they had to do it. Everyone was doing anything and everything to soften the sting of losing our baby girl. I actually walked around and looked in cabinets in the kitchen where I had stored bottles and pictures on the fridge of our first ultrasound, they were all put away. I went straight to the nursery. I had to look at it. I had to face it head on. I opened the door and peeked in. Nothing. Cue one of our many "firsts", first meltdown. Brian was there to hold me and talk me down. He would soon get very practiced in this. I needed to see it though. I needed to face the emptiness head on and feel the pain. I remember thinking that I just wanted time to move. I held on to the fact that time will heal our pain. I wanted desperately for time to pass on so we could find our new normal and some happiness again. I desperately clung to that hope.
After that, we decided to eat something. It had been a while since I'd ate a decent meal and though my head and heart were in pain, my body was starving. We heated up some leftovers from the dinner our moms had got the night we found out and went to go sit outside and eat. I needed some fresh air after being contained in a hospital room for 3 days straight. I needed to breathe. I had made it through the biggest "first" of all and survived. We had arrived home for the first time without our little girl. We faced her empty room and had to embrace our new life. I knew deep down that we were going to get through this, it was just going to have to be one step at a time.
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