Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

It’s so strange…those little things that trip me up. So little, I never even considered it to be a challenge. But there I was. This is what I wrote about it.

Grief rises in my throat

Creating a hard lump in the back of my mouth

My tongue swells and I can’t align my jaws or my teeth 

Happy families surround me in the waiting room while calm instrumentals play gently familiar songs: 

Every Breath You Take

Don’t Stop Believin’

And I don’t know whether to hear the message in “I’ll be watching you…”

or crushed at the breaths no longer taken.

I dread my admittance to the exam room but not for the reasons most women dread it.

Eventually it will have to be said. When the doctor finally recognizes me and I have to tell the horror story all over again.

Yet another person I have to bare my broken heart to when he asks about the baby he delivered almost ten years ago.

Noah's birth

Advertisements