The Years When Hope Started to Hurt
I can still see that parking lot outside the fertility clinic.
A woman walked past me holding an ultrasound photo like it was a golden ticket.
She looked like she’d just been handed the world.
I was so drained I couldn’t even cry anymore.
At home, my husband John and I moved around each other carefully.
Like our marriage was an old house with weak floorboards and we were both afraid of stepping wrong.
Every month came with a new surge of tension.
Every “maybe this time” felt like a gamble.
The miscarriages came one after another.
Each one felt faster.
