It's been over two months since we found out about this baby and my way of coping has been precise, bordering almost obsessive list making. Checking things off one by one. I have delicately broached the topic of funeral and burial with my husband but not pursued the issue. My husband made Wyatt's casket himself. Actually, he made two, one tiny casket that as the pregnancy progressed it became clear would not be large enough. He then set about making a larger casket that would accommodate a full term baby. He spent many many hours in our garage cutting, piecing, gluing, nailing, sanding and finishing the casket. Then he brought it inside and lined it with fluff and shiny white fabric. He decorated it with tiny white pearls and crafted a perfect little white pillow for the baby's head. I can't describe the emotions I felt as I watched him do all of this but the pride that I felt and still feel is unmatched. He created our child's final resting place.
This weekend he began this baby's casket. His silence and inaction had led me to believe that he may not be able to do another one. I was wrong. It just wasn't time yet. Time is the only thing we have right now, but it is starting to run out, our clock is ticking and it's getting louder.
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