There are so many of us…
Some of us deal in silence, some in heartbreaking wails.
All of us coming to terms with our grief. The big and the small.
Some of us won’t even know, while others will field questions of the ‘missing’, the ‘wanted’.
Some of us will feel it over and over, many won’t even know it is happening.
Some of us will be too afraid to try again, while countless others won’t be able to try again.
Some of us will be surrounded by nurses and doctors, but many will be quietly losing at home.
Some of us will not notice a difference in our bodies, others will watch the wasted milk stream from their breast.
Some will have bumps and lumps and big tender boobs, or we may have flat tummy's and go completely unnoticed.
Some of us will have rooms, clothes and toys ready.
All of us have our hearts ready.
We will be told we are better off, that we are still young or too old, that it wasn’t meant to be, that we did nothing wrong.
We will be reminded that we can try again, that we are already blessed, that is was early anyway, that we should have told people sooner, or that we told everyone too soon.
We will feel let down, betrayed and disgusted by our own bodies.
We will feel like failures.
We are not a secret group.
We are not failures.
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