One week ago today we laid my precious grandson to rest. He fought a long, hard battle for 4 weeks to stay with us, but only being 22 weeks gestation proved to be too much. My heart never hurt so much as it did holding our sweet little baby boy in my arms as he took his final breaths. Maddox was the most beautiful soul I've ever felt, and I'm lost without him. My little hero is gone.
Three days ago we nearly lost his mother as well. She tried to take her own life. I immediately rushed her to the hospital, and she is in a treatment facility to hopefully receive the intense help that she very much needs to help her cope with her tragic loss. I don't know what we will do as a family if we lose her too.
There seems to be no light at the end of this very dark tunnel. Our family has suffered greatly, and I feel like life has really shit on us. I'm so angry. I want our baby boy back. I want his mommy to be ok. And I'm pissed at the world that there isn't a damn thing I can do to make any of that happen.
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