One month ago...

One month ago tomorrow I got the confirmation I had known was coming--my baby is dead. It seems strange to be writing this, and yet I also think it's strange that our culture keeps miscarriages a secret. In the time it took for me to realize the stick had turned pink, I was already completely in love with this precious, beautiful life growing within me. It's crazy to think a grieving mother should smile and pretend everything is okay just because the child hadn't been born yet.

I was only seven weeks along, had known for about three and a half. I never got to hear a heartbeat or feel that first fluttery movement. I didn't get to find out the sex (although I have a strong instinct it was a boy) or see if he looked like me or favored his daddy. I never got to put him to my breast, hold his hand as he walked, help him learn to read, teach him to pray. And that's exactly what I'm grieving. All those moments, big and small, the hopes and dreams, have been taken from me.

I have been through this before, between the two girls, and I know I'll be okay. I just need to get some of this out of my head so I can process it a little better. That's enough for tonight, but don't be surprised if there's more later.