Why, DEATH, why?

Why didn't I get to bathe her? Why didn't I think to bring her baby blanket from home, the pink soft one that was waiting for her, to the hospital to have her wrapped in the whole weekend we were there, instead of that damn hospital one, that one was not special, all the babies are wrapped in that one, not mine, she should have had her own...she was so cold. Why didn't I think to take our own pictures of her little hands and feet cradled in ours....Why didn't I ask to make molds of her feet and hands to keep? Why didn't I bring her brother to see her, her bunny we got her to hold her, her clothes for her to wear...Why do I feel like we didn't get to make her ours?...Why didn't I ask our pastor to come meet her and pray over her and for her....Why was I so scared of keeping her cold little still body with me more those few days?.....DAMN, you DEATH...why did I not get to even be of sound mind when my baby was near me like that to make these decisions. I was so sick. Why did you, DEATH, steal those moments from me? As I begin to plan her memorial service, I am reminded of all the things I wish we had done those few days we were with her to make her ours. God, I miss her. I long for her and ache for her today. God, I wish I had more of her to keep with me, but even now as these tears pour down my face, I painfully know she is yours and she always was.