Part of this journey of grief is dealing with fear.
Being 41 weeks pregnant means you are supposed to be well past the "dangerous time". Nothing bad is supposed to happen when you make it that far. When you are 41 weeks pregnant you are making sure all of the clothes are washed and the nursery is complete. You have your hospital bag by the door where it has been waiting for the last 4 weeks. Your baby is not supposed to die.
When the unthinkable happens everything becomes fair game. If I can be that statistic what other statistic will I become? I fear that some other crazy bad thing will happen to me or my family, that I will never have a normal pregnancy or baby. It may sound crazy but those are the thoughts that lurk in the back of my mind.
I worry that as I continue on with my life that people will start to think I am okay, or worst of all "over it" or "healed". That people will forget that I was pregnant and have a daughter named Emma. It makes me afraid to enjoy things again, to go back to work, to put a smile on, to have fun with friends. Just to put it out there...I will never be "over it" or "healed". I will learn to manage my grief, to box it up and acknowledge it on my terms, but there will always be an Emma shaped hole in my heart.