I’m having a hard time. I’ll admit it. I’m alright when I’m safe at home where Baby Olive was a real thing that happened to everyone who lives in the house. But outside my own little world it hits home to me that Olive will never be part of the world at large. Never go to the grocery store. Never go to my office. Outside of my walls it’s like Olive wasn’t. The baby didn’t exist to anyone out there. There are no remnants or reminders. No spit up stains. No lingering objects or lasting memories. No one can say “Oh that baby, I think I caught a glimpse of that baby.” There were no glimpses. Not one. The world will never, never remember Olive. And it’s breaking my heart to know that I can’t expect it to.