I suddenly wake up, gasping in bed. I don't know what nightmare woke me up this time, but I don't even have to glance at the clock to know what time it is. 4:23 AM.
Where is my baby's crying? I'm about to go look for her when I remember what happened, and my eyes start to water.
My therapist says it's good to cry, but I don't like it one bit. It stings my eyes and tastes salty, like the ocean. I don't like the ocean either. It makes a horrible place to cry at, because the sea won't listen to me and shut up for just one moment, so that I can try and remember Sophie's crying.
When she was born, she weighed five pounds and had hardly any blood in her body. The doctors told me she probably wouldn't make through the first day. But I wasn't going to let that happen. I'd worked so hard to get pregnant, and on top of it, in the middle of my pregnancy, her father left me for another woman.
But I was tough,