These are the glory days of summer. We spend long evenings sitting on our terrace, telling each other about the books we’re reading (him: the brain, and scrum theory, me: Abraham commentaries and young adult novels). I drink home made ice coffees with coffee ice cubes (thank you pinterest) and he has a German beer…
Back in January, seven months after my miscarriage, two of my best friends from uni visited me. We took a few short walks through the city so that they could legitimately have claimed to have been in Luxembourg, and then spent the rest of the time in coffee shops and restaurants and on my sofa,…
Important note: every woman’s response, every couple’s response, to a miscarriage is intensely personal and unique to them. So some of what I write here will not be true for you, some may even have been the opposite. But the topic of miscarriage is so rarely discussed that I wanted to start this conversation, so…
A few days after I miscarried our first child at ten weeks, I woke early without planning to. Sleep alluded me and I could see the sky already lightening where I could glimpse it through the skylight, so I got out of bed without disturbing my tired husband and tiptoed down the stairs. Grabbing a…
I reread emails from a few weeks ago when tears came easily and chocolate was necessary, from a friend who has lost two unborn children. Her words of encouragement and understanding in those early hard days is what is saving me right now. I have a snatched conversation with another friend in the garden. She…
Artwork source: Magda Wolna on Flickr This is a hard story to write. It is a hard story to live. And it is a recent story. Not one I can look back on and tell with the remembered ache of a healed scar. This wound is still open. I knew even in the midst of…
