Born on Christmas Eve
She learned she was pregnant while the late summer sun was hot in the sky. Two tiny pink stripes of motherhood and two flushed pink cheeks
She learned she was pregnant while the late summer sun was hot in the sky. Two tiny pink stripes of motherhood and two flushed pink cheeks
Told by: Roberta My miscarriage story: If I went right to the very start of my story I’d begin where I have a bad ob/gyn history.
Told by: LeRyan We lost our son, Jarrit Dewayne Green, Jr., 4 weeks ago tonight at this very moment, ironically, 9:54 p.m. on Friday, July
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
Miscarriages are labor, miscarriages are birth. To consider them less dishonors the woman whose womb has held life, however briefly.
Death borders upon our birth, and our cradle stands in the grave.
Even at our birth, death does but stand aside a little. And every day he looks towards us and muses somewhat to himself whether that day or the next he will draw nigh.
Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye.
The road to the sacred leads through the secular.
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