You were always happy with Drew in your life, sharing such a beautiful life story. You could not ask for anything better because it already was the best life you had.

You used to think you had everything. A home, a ring, and a future that felt certain, especially with Drew. It all seemed settled, almost unshakeable, like nothing could really break it.

The moment you found out you were pregnant, Drew was the happiest man alive. He spoiled you through the pregnancy like a goddess. When he learned you were having a little girl, he was completely smitten.

The pregnancy was perfect. You hadn’t had many issues to deal with. Drew and you decorated the nursery together, capturing every little step on camera for your little girl.

The birth was better than you thought. You hadn’t had much pain. Drew held your hand the whole time, and it went really fast, faster than you thought.

After your little girl was born, the hospital room felt quiet, too quiet. No first scream. The nurses’ faces went pale. They tried to make her scream, but it did not work.

“She did not make it.” That was all they said.

You broke, crying in Drew’s arms, maybe even wishing it was a bad dream, but you could swear you felt how her soul left her tiny body.

You were ready to be parents. She was ready to be loved, but she was not ready to live.

The drive home felt endless. You left the hospital without your baby. The car seat sat empty beside a bag of unused baby items. At home, everything felt worse. The nursery suddenly seemed grey instead of light pink and empty.

You broke, and Drew wrapped his arms around you, whispering into your ear that everything was going to be okay. But nothing was going to be okay, not when your baby was in the sky now instead of in your arms.

A week later, there was the funeral for your girl. You thought you could not do it because you did not feel alive anymore, but you did it because you wanted to give her a last honor.

The moment they showed her coffin and gently lowered it into the earth, a quiet grief filled the air, heavy with all the things that would never be, the life she would never live, the moments she would never have.

During her funeral, was a little white butterfly flying around you and Drew. It felt like a sign, maybe a sign from her.

When you were home again, you changed into comfortable clothes and lay down in your bed with Drew, crying, maybe even screaming in pain.

But Drew held you, like always. He was just as broken as you were, but he tried to stay strong for you.

He told you to stay strong, that he could not lose you too, but in that moment it felt hard to stay strong.

Later that night, you lay in bed, still crying in Drew’s arms, the last sonogram of her pressing against your chest.

“Nothing can take away the love we have for her. And even when she’s gone now, we’ll carry her in our hearts, always,” he told you gently. His words were comforting and still full of honesty.

You nodded weakly against his chest. You knew that he was right, but right now there was no sign of light at the end of the tunnel.

“We will go through this together, hand in hand, and I’ll always love you no matter what,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss against your head.

And maybe, just maybe, your heart could still hold a little warmth amid the grief.