Your death has changed my life.

Malika Ndlovu writes down her feelings to help herself heal following the stillbirth of her daughter.
January 1st-I have just taken the tablet to catalyze the contractions (induce labor) that will deliver you, out of your nest, my womb. I sit with a lit candle in the garden, listening to a baby crying next door, wind blowing through the trees, a plane flying over high above. How do I leave home today full of you and come home tomorrow, empty? My mind swings between dead calm practicalities of to do lists and necessary arrangements, to tears cutting me down to a deep quiet grief I cannot fully feel even though I know it is there.

How could I imagine that your last fevered fluttering was goodbye? How can I hold the thought that you have been sleeping lifeless inside of me since then, already gone? It's been almost four days. I race from recollecting all the signs that came before to tell us that this was where your path would lead, signs that I shut out so many times, clear calls for me to face the silence of you no longer kicking within me.

This morning in the shower a clear image of these few words on a blank page came to me:

"Your death has changed my life."

 Maddie's death has changed my life. Love you and miss you beyond words, baby girl.