I’ve had 5 missed miscarriages.
Five times when my body hasn’t recognized that my babies’ had died
Five times when my womb clung to their stilled hearts begging for resurrection.
I’m not sure one ever gets over that. It changes you.
It hardens you and softens you all at the same time. Filling you with fear and a deep appreciation for life; living, breathing, life.
The sting will begin to dissipate, of that I’m sure.
But I’m forever changed by the five tinies whose hearts formed and stopped beating inside of mine.
They will never be forgotten.