She sat quiet and still with such deep pain etched on her face, it hurt to look at her. She did not say a word but her lack of speech said plenty. It said that she was having a hard time sleeping again. It said that she was feeling alone and sad and angry. It said that she wanted to crawl into a hole and protect herself from everything around her. It said that every breath that tore through her lungs was just a reminder that a tiny infant she carried for eight and a half months…never breathed.
She was bleeding raw with a wound so deep and jagged it will be impossible for it to ever be smooth. The rough and ragged edges will heal slowly with a constant ache. Forever, the person who she is, who she was, will be marked by that pain.
And she’s not the only one…
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