Your story is powerful, beautiful, tragic... there is so much in it, so much you haven't written that comes through between your words.
"I immediately ask about the baby and no one will tell me anything. I say “You aren’t supposed to tell me, are you?” And it is then after I ask again, that someone tells me what I already know. It isn’t good, they say. I don’t know how… if they told me specifically or if I knew…"
Is what made me cry. When I woke in recovery after my c-section almost the same exchange took place. I just knew. There's no way you can't. Even with my newborn son so far from me I was still connected to him, and I knew he was gone before anyone came to tell me.
When I got in the car and drove home out of the hospital the radio was playing, "Don't fear the reaper". It actually made me smile; it was like this bizarre dose of irony. I didn't fear his death, I just knew
I am sorry: for all the words that won't be enough and for the pain that will be there forever. I'm sorry that you know this pain, too.