Trigger warning.
My daughter can never know how much her very existence kills me every day. Her twin sister died when they were 3 weeks old (both had the same f#cked up infection) She started having
life threatening seizures not long after, talking multiple resuscitations a day. There were days that I prayed to God and just said, you know what, take her too, this way if I killed myself, it’d be understandable. Don’t get me wrong, I love her and am so grateful that we have this time. But since we’re once again in the ER resuscitation room, I’m finding it hard to survive. I haven’t breathed in 2 years, and counting. This constant fear and guilt will be the death of me.
