I went with my husband to bury the baby yesterday. It was not as bad as I thought it would be. My husband cried like a baby. I didn't shed a tear.
I am a freak of nature.
Anyway, the man from the funeral home gave us some papers. When I got home I opened an envelope, and there it was. I don't even remember signing this when I was in the hospital. I must have because my signature was on it. Certificate of Still Birth.I must have taken that paper out 100 times and read it. I don't know why it even matters to me. I know that I have said it on this blog before, but I hated it when my loss was referred to as a miscarriage. For some reason it made me feel like I shouldn't be as sad because she wasn't a real baby. The term stillbirth implies that she was born, therefore it's ok to mourn her as I have. I know that is probably not the case, but that is how I feel. It was just so important to me to know that she was born, that she existed, and to have it recognized means so much to me. It's like a huge weight has been lifted from me. I don't know why it's so important, but it is.
Also, I was reading the stuff from the funeral home, and where it asks for the decease's age he wrote fetus. It broke my heart.