I am just sadistic enough to keep staring at that picture, knowing that looking at it rips my guts out.
I just got an email from the mother of the baby next to Nova in CVRU. It was the first time in days something felt "normal" or at least, familiar. The hospital, and everyone there, and all the noises and the smells and the damned schedule of coming and going and counting time in 2 hour increments so I could see him again... it was my routine, my reality. This, this being home, without Nova, without a trip to the hospital to make, or a phone call to make... it's just wrong. And I can't, or haven't yet, adjusted.
I don't want to adjust. I want my Nova back.
So I just stare at that picture and choke back the selfish tears for another lifetime of wishes and dreams that will never come true. And there's nothing I can do about it, there's nothing to be done.