Mind Dump

I don't have anything to say.

It seems like I should, but I don't.

I feel like, maybe, I've moved on, but really I just don't think about the terrible tragedy that struck my little family a little over two weeks ago. It's easier not to think about it. I don't know how to quantify it, or wrap my mind around the reality of it, or I don't want to, so I don't.

I don't know what to think or do; how to process this.

It's so much easier to go on as if nothing happened. I don't have the constant reminders that Val has, so it's easy. But our baby girl is gone. Haley's little sister is gone.

I have so grown to love being daddy to a little blonde haired, blue eyed angel. She is my princess and I get to play the role of her prince. She bats those baby blues at me and says, "Daddy... I mean, Prince? May I have this dance?" And we dance to whatever music is playing (or not playing). There are few things that make me feel as warm in my heart as I do in those moments.

I was so excited to have another princess to love and defend... or not. Maybe she would have been a tom-boy who liked to spit and throw rocks; who would rather wear ratty jeans and a t-shirt than a "princess" dress. Maybe she would have been something in-between. I would have loved that little girl just as much, but we'll never know what Harlynn would have become.

When we went to the hospital that night, it was with the intention of bringing a new life into our family. A life that we would cherish and love. One who, on certain days, we would snuggle one minute and discipline the next. We hadn't ever considered the possibility that we might leave empty handed. It wasn't an option. It wasn't.


I'm afraid that I will take the easy path and just put this time of my life into a box with a heavy lid and store it in the deepest darkest corner, never to be retrieved. I hope I find the strength and the will and the way to avoid that path.