The sun rises and sets.
Life goes on.
I know life must go on, but it just feels wrong to 'go on'. Somehow it just feels wrong to go back living life as if a beautiful life didn't just briefly enter and leave our family.
My uterus is shrinking back to it's proper size. I lay on the bed and feel my stomach. It reminds me of a bag that carried a precious treasure, but the treasure is gone and all that remains is the crumpled, empty bag. The memory of what once was.
My breasts are no longer painfully engorged with milk, which also makes me cry. Just a week and a half after I gave birth, even my body must go on as if nothing happened.
Of course we all know something happened. Isabel made her brief appearance on this earth. We were able to hold her, tell her we love her, and then stand aside as an angel carried her to Heaven.