A week after

I am a mother with no child. I am still crying myself to sleep, avishek holding me and trying to hold himself together enough to comfort me. I cry until I get tired. Until my eyes are puffy and hot. And I do it as quietly as possibly, because my mom is in the living room and I don't want her to worry. I try so hard to keep her from worrying. But I can't breathe when I think of her leaving. She has been my sanity the past week. Entertaining her, showing her Chicago, has distracted me enough to keep it together. But when I am alone, before bed or the shower. I can't pretend anymore. I can't ignore. I have to confront the fact that my baby is dead. How long am I allowed to mourn? I feel like I'm already at the end of accepted time. She wasn't even born. She wasn't even alive. She was still in utero. She wasn't even a person. But God I loved her. She wasy life. Regardless of how young she was. Everything I did, I did for her. What the fuck do I do now?