I rolled over onto my back and let the tears spill down onto the pillow, behind my head. I heard the shower turn on. I laid there thinking about this Christmas. Why this Christmas? Why couldn’t it have happened after Christmas? Why does our history have to repeat itself over and over again? I was so happy when I saw those two pink lines. I was worried the next day when the lines were faint. I knew by those third, even more faint pink lines the day after that, that this pregnancy would be ending sooner rather than later. I’m so angry that I let myself get excited. I’m angrier that I let Hubby get excited. For 3 Christmases now, I’ve been pregnant and yet I have no living child to show for it - just an empty nursery full of little boy things…I’ve disappointed once again.

I got up and padded my way to the bathroom. The cramping had started in the middle of the night but the Tylenol with codeine had taken the edge off. I think this baby wanted to hang around because the cramping has never been this bad before. A loss has never woken me up with the sharp, “dishtowel wringing” feeling in my lower abdomen that it did last night. I stripped off my pjs, pulled back the curtain and tried not to make eye contact with Hubby.

“Look at me,” he said.

I turned my face to the warm water, rinsing away the tears and then turned back around and smiled. I’m not fooling him. He’s seen enough of my tears over the past almost 2 years to know when I’m sad, hurt, in pain. If he says one word to me, I’m going to lose my false composure - I know the tears are right there, right under the surface, right on the edge.

“Oh honey, I know. I’m sorry. I’m disappointed too.”

I felt my face crumple and I put my arms around him, the warm water washing over both of us. I sobbed the hiccupping sob I’ve practically perfected. I let myself believe that this was it….again. I stupidly believed that my luck, my genes, the universe would all let me have this baby – would let me carry this life for 9 long months, would let me labor (hopefully for a short time) and deliver a child born screaming, would let my Hubby hold a baby full of life in his arms for the first time and see himself in our child.

I believed at Christmas.

And once again, I was wrong.

Oh, sweetie. Dear heart, I am so sorry. This has been such an awful time for you anyway. I just want to scoop you up and rock you and let you cry. I am so sorry. Let me sit with you awhile.

My heart just broke for you Martha. I am so sorry that you have to experience this again. Thinking of you...

Oh that is so sad. Why is it so unfair?!!

I'm so sorry.