So Many Questions

Should we tell everyone right away?

Should we wait?

Should we find out: girl or boy?

Should we be surprised?

What color should the nursery be?

Which crib to buy?

Jogging or compact stroller?

Are the expensive car seats really safer?

So many choices to make!

All so much fun!

But All at once it changes.

Which is the best children’s hospital?

What treatment is better?

Can you breastfeed a baby so sick?

Which doctors have published better research?

Call the insurance, call the doctors, call HR.

So many questions.

It’s all so confusing.

Then it’s worse. 

Then there is more.

Only comfort care or oxygen too?

Baptism in the OR or back in the room, if she makes it?

What will her final outfit be?

Which soap will be used for her first and only bath?

Cremation or burial?

Should there be flowers?

Should there be food?

Should there be music?

Do you want an autopsy?

Decisions I never knew I would have to make.

Not ever in this life

And certainly not at 27.

It goes on. 

More choices, more questions.

Is it just grief, or is it PTSD?

The best trauma therapy,

Or the one covered best by insurance?

Should the scar still hurt like that?

Should my heart still hurt like that,

Strangely full of emptiness?

Ask for help or push through?

Cry or shove it down?

Brave face or honestly?

The questions persist.

Slowly, it becomes clear, 

The most import questions,

Have to be answered daily.

How will I honor her?

How will I share her love?

How will I celebrate her life?

Each day I must answer the best I can

As I wait to join her again.