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Millie thinks I've handled things well. I'm not so sure that she's right.

When the baby stopped breathing, I was as terrified as she was. I just shut off, because panicking is the worst thing that could have happened. I needed to let Millie fall apart - she's been though so much - but that meant I had to keep it together. To distract herself, she started asking questions about my family, which got fairly uncomfortable. I hand't even talked to her about my mom's sister Rose and her kids before, and she was even asking me things about my dad's brothers - they're dead, except for Danny, so why bring them up? But she was trying to get her mind off things, so how could I be annoyed? She's trying so hard, and taking unecessary blame on herself - even the doctor said so.
I like caring for the baby. Millie doesn't have to beat herself up about it, but she does, and when Isa's sick, it make it worse. I can't help worrying about the two of them. I'm almost grateful for having to walk Isabel at all hours.

We've taken to walking out all hours; the air is good for her, for a bit, and it lets Millie sleep and recuperate. Time, hopefully, is all we need