People from my writing community (who don’t even know I exist) sometimes whisper truths into my ear (unbeknownst to them) an entire year after they first put the truth on paper.
This one in particular held my hand last week: here
(Go ahead and read it—I’ll wait.)
Me? Here’s my truth:
I don’t know about the seven-week ultrasound. We’ve never made it that far. There is not a single baby waiting for us in heaven.
I could tell you about the follicle-measuring ultrasound. The one where the technician is both tight-lipped and extra chatty, discussing everything except how great and normal things look. Continue reading When Your Void Shows Through