Seventeen months ago, we had our miscarriage. It seems so surreal now, almost as if it never happened.
I remember the cramping. I remember the pain. I remember the blood.
That's all a miscarriage is basically--cramping, pain, and blood. And lots of it.
I never got a positive pregnancy test.
I never got a due date.
I never got an ultrasound picture.
How do you make something happy out of something that only brought you pain?
You bury it deep inside of you, pretending it was just a dream.
More like a fucking nightmare.
I try not to let myself think about what our life would have been like if we had an 8 month old right now. How insanely fucking happy I would be.
Sleep deprived? Most likely.
But most of all, happy.
The what ifs don't really matter anymore.
Our arms are still empty, hearts still broken.
They say it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.
What do they say to those of us who never got a chance to love before it was lost?