Two Weeks After Our Baby Died, My 8-Year-Old Whispered, “Mom, She Isn’t Gone—I Saw What Daddy Did at the Hospital”
The photographs became less urgent over time.
I still value them.
But I do not need to look every week.
That used to frighten me.
If I stop looking, am I forgetting?
No.
Memory changes form.
Grief becomes less physically demanding.
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