"I could feel hot, salty tears coming down my face. I sat and cried silently... I was scrunching myself up against the wall as far as I could. All of a sudden, someone from behind us taps on the guy’s shoulder..."
"My hands caught him before he hit the water. In my hands was my baby -- the size and shape of a small water balloon and the deepest shade of scarlet."
"I am not ashamed that this happened to me. That was one of my motivations for getting the tattoo in the first place—I really think it's healing to be able to talk about it."
New Zealand’s parliament passed legislation this week, giving mothers and their partners the right to paid leave following a miscarriage or stillbirth.
"Miscarriage is not the most popular topic of conversation. I’m still struggling to understand why, given that around 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage."
I want there to be a word for the vulnerability you feel as you lay there just lying to yourself about what's to come. A word for the way your heart goes from fluttery to thudding in your ears. A word for that one last moment of hopefulness before the world comes crashing down. Why isn't there a word?
"‘Please find someone else,' I begged my fiancé. I just can’t do it. I’m done. My body always fails our babies. Something is wrong with me and I just can’t do it, I’m sorry."
