Job and I recently became members of the world’s shittiest club. I’m making this post a click thru because it won’t be for everyone. It’s about miscarriage.

I write about it because that’s what I do. For me, keeping the words in my head is harder than writing them down.

At my 16-weeks appointment, there was no heartbeat.

You wait. As patiently and as collected as you can while they search and search your belly for the sound.

I knew it to be true before they said it.

And then you dive. Gripping, scraping, screaming trying  to keep a hold on your very core. But you fall. The pit of a mother’s despair rises up to swallow you whole before you can even break it’s surface. It’s hollow. And cold. And you just keep falling.

The loss is so great, so utterly complete that you are fractured from yourself. In those moments, I wanted to die. I wanted to die a thousand deaths to get back the last 6 minutes.

…

I cried.

I called my husband.

I accepted their forms, their appointments, and their sympathy.

I was to wait for some three days before surgery. Upon hearing this, I honestly could only think about the torture of continuing to carry my poor, sweet, lifeless baby.

I was terrified to get undressed or take a shower because I’d have to confront my pregnant belly. I could feel my uterus with it’s rise above my pelvic bone. In recent weeks, it had become the physical fulcrum of my body.

I showered in the dark that next day. But my hand was still drawn to my child. It was then and with fierce conviction that it clicked…

I am this child’s mother. This is my child. It is my duty and my honor to keep this baby safe until they are no longer with me.

And that I did. I talked to my child. I put my hand to my child. I took care to still sleep on my side. I cherished the last days of our union. I expressed my love, my gratitude and my goodbyes.

It is with great sadness that I write this. We are sad. I am broken in so very many ways.

But I love my husband. And I love my children. I am a good mother and I am very glad to be yours.