On this day.

Three years ago today, my water broke.

We drove to the hospital, full of love and joyful anticipation, with only a hint of apprehension. We’ve done this before, we’ve got this!

I only called one person the next day.

“The baby didn’t make it. We had a boy, and he didn’t make it.”

 

Is this for real? Is this really what happened to me? To my perfect, beautiful son? How can it be that three years have gone by? How have I lived three years without him? How come it still hurts so much? How come grief still drops me to my knees?