One of the hardest parts after Caleb's passing is dealing with those that are unaware. Getting a call from the lactation consultant a few days after, asking me, "How are you and the baby?" Getting a call from the Ronald McDonald house the night after he passed, telling us that they now had a room for us to stay in. Receiving his social security card in the mail. The formula samples, baby coupons, newborn advice emails. It's to be expected, but that doesn't make it any less difficult to handle.
Going down to the Montgomery County Vital Statistics to try and get his birth certificate, was so surreal. I know I have used this word before, and it really does fit how this all feels. Like it's a dream. Having his death certificate sitting in his crib, with all his belongings from the hospital, is pretty weird. His room is still all put together, with every diaper in place. It's where I go to think about him, write to him, cry, and take a break. I find Kailey in Caleb's room a lot. It seems to give her some comfort as well.
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