I picked the name of this blog to remind myself that
everything ends at some point. Both the good and the bad. I have never been one for tattoos but lately I have been considering getting this phrase inked somewhere on my body to take it with me always. Just another way that a miscarriage can change a person.
Christmas has come and gone. These days, I sort of dread holidays and celebrations. They always seem tainted by sadness and bitterness. My birthday this year was awful - just 10 days after my third miscarriage and I couldn't wait until it was over.
I tried very hard not to think about how this should have been baby's first Christmas. How I would have had a special stocking and ornament hanging on the tree to commemorate the occasion, and how wonderful it would have been to have been able to share this holiday with a child, even one that didn't yet know what was going on. Some days are harder than others.