24 weeks and 1 month

Today is one month. One month since Julian and Preston were born and died.

Today would have also been 24 weeks in my pregnancy.


So really, today is a rough day in so many ways. All kinds of emotions and thoughts, what if’s and could have’s. 

Most days I don’t let myself dwell on what could have been for long. Or curl up back into bed and bawl. Or replay my pregnancy and their birth over and over in my head. But today I did because I wanted to. And the ever nagging thoughts in my head of how they missed any type of acknowledgment on paper of their lives because they weren’t quite 20 weeks, and how I hadn’t looked at their pictures yet weighed on me. I don’t know why, but the thought of them not being recognized as babies bothers me constantly. As much as I know, and you all know, they were.

Then I got up and went in the closet where their little memories boxes are. I’ve never seen them, but the nurses gave them to us before we left that day. Standing there, I wondered if I had the strength to look inside. But something told me I needed to. I opened them up and there were little cards inside. All filled out by hand with their vitals and ours – like a birth certificate. With their hand and footprints in them, names, time of birth, how much they weighed.

One for each.

They were here. I have proof. Those cards healed a wound I’d carried for my boys. I held the papers with their small prints and sobbed because I thought my heart might break I missed those two so very much. Their weeks and hours with me hit full force as I realized once again that this was never, ever going to be different. I will never have them here on earth to raise and love and kiss.

It hurts. No matter how much you believe in heaven and the journey God has planned for your life, death hurts.

Then I saw at their pictures and cried, how tiny they were. How perfect. Sam and I sat and looked at the pictures on our phones we captured. Just one of Preston while he was still alive but it is precious. I am so glad we have them. So glad I was able to look at them and remember the peace of those moments we had.

I took the time I needed today to let myself grieve again, and it was good. Not everyday, not all the time. But today was good to remember even the painful moments. To break through the terror of seeing their pictures or hand and footprints – there is no fear anymore of those sending me back into the overwhelming pain of the first few days. It was healing to see them and to know a part of them was recorded, short as their lives were. That I can see their faces when I want.

So today was a hard day, but it brought a lot of healing to my heart.


  1. says

    I’d love to give you, Sam, and Bella the biggest hug possible.

    I’m glad their photos and hand/foot prints weren’t another stab to the heart. I also don’t think anyone will ever doubt they were real babies. You and your family have touched so many lives, no one will soon forget.


  2. says

    It is so important, that they be recognized. I know for me, especially at Christmas and Mother’s Day, I just want somebody to remember them, to count them.
    We framed our sons’ footprints and hung them on the wall, next to the footprints of their living siblings. It was a way for me to include my babies in my days, in my house…

    I think about your family often and pray for you. I wish it was different. <3

  3. Jen says

    (((hugs))) I bet as had as it was the closure it gave helped. Im so glad you have those keepsakes, as hard as it is to look at them now they will be treasured! Still praying fro comfort and eace for you guys, and will continue to do so!

  4. Stacy says

    *hugs* I’m glad you had the courage to look today. Even though they’re not officially recognized on paper, enough people know about them that they’ll never EVER be forgotten, you guys most importantly. <3

  5. says

    I understand this pain, and the need to revisit. My loss wasn’t the loss of a child, but the hole in my heart from my best friend passing suddenly is physically painful. You, just like I do, have to remember that it is not only okay to be in pain and not be okay, but it is also okay to move forward and start to heal. That has been the hardest part for me, starting to move towards okay. Acceptance has yet to come, and likely never will. I still think of the future, and it breaks my heart. But this might inspire me to actually go to his house and face the last connection head on. Or I might pretend it doesn’t exist.

  6. Jenny says

    Hugs to you today…and it is so not fair that they call births like yours miscarriages…its like saying paper cuts and amputations are both just flesh wounds. I’ll never understand that. I will never forget your story, or your boys. Xoxox

  7. says

    A blogging friend of mine who has had five miscarriages (NOT THE SAME, I know…but bear with me), has five red glass hearts she keeps as reminders of the tiny babies that were with her. When she heard of my miscarriages, she sent me one for each baby I lost. Again, NOT THE SAME as your loss, but it is my thing to hold in my hand to remind me of the other two babies who are not with our family.

    My point is…it’s important to have things that say your babies…your experience…was real. It HAPPENED. Even though you KNOW and other people KNOW, the THING that you hold is important.

    What I am saying is, I’m glad you have things to look at and hold. Even if you pack them away and can’t look at them for 30 years. They are there. Waiting.

  8. Alisia says

    I too gave birth to a baby before the recognized 20 week mark. I had a wonderful midwife and nurse that sent us home with a little round box with hospital brackets, a tiny knit cap and a prayer card. It pained me so much to see and touch those items for so long. Over two years later it still pulls at my heart but I’m so glad I have these things. We did bury our baby and there is a beautiful headstone for our precious angel. They’re our children no matter how short of time we have them and to recognize that is beautiful even if it is challenging at times. Your complete honesty over the last month has helped me resolve feelings I had buried for the last two years. Thank you for giving me strength. God bless you and your family.

  9. says

    It is such a blessing that you have these mementos to hold and to help you grieve. Keep writing and know that you have a community of supporters sending love and hope to you.

  10. Joanne Beasley says

    Dear Diana,
    God never intended us to be separated from our loved ones by death. He designed us to live forever and love forever. May you be comforted by an intimacy with your Father (Papa) God like never before.
    Love you!

  11. says

    I’ve been thinking about you often and praying for you and your family. I’m so glad you’ve found strength and healing, and I pray you will continue to feel moments of peace each day. Although there is no sufficient human understanding for why these things happen, I know God will continue to carry your family in His arms and bless you greatly in the years to come. Sending you lots of love today,

  12. says

    Diana, I’m relatively new to your blog. Actually, if we’re being honest, I hadn’t heard of your blog until prayer requests bounced through the twitter world a month ago. My heart went out to you then and it has continued to do so since that time. You are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. In fact, your strength lately has given me strength to see through my own time of mourning. So, thank you for sharing your story, for finding your strength and for instilling hope in others. Praying for you and your sweet family.

  13. brenda says

    It has just passed the 3 yr mark for my little boy we lost at 38 1/2 weeks. The hurt seems to come in waves still but it does get easier and those little feetprints and pictures are dear to me as well. Best wishes on your journey through one of lifes hardest trials.