When Christmas Is Heartbreaking by Jennifer Watson, Contributing Writer She would have been fifteen. For some reason I just assume that I only make girls. Being a self-professed girly girl, I soak in all the sugar and spice. Fairy tales and make believe, chasing after dreams like clouds thinking ... READ the POST
When Christmas is Heartbreaking
She would have been fifteen.
For some reason I just assume that I only make girls.
She would have been fifteen.
For some reason I just assume that I only make girls. Being a self-professed girly girl, I soak in all the sugar and spice. Fairy tales and make believe, chasing after dreams like clouds thinking if I jumped high enough I could hold them in my hand.
I haven’t thought about her in a while. But for years thoughts of her consumed my waking moments and my dreams.
It was Christmastime; all was jolly and bright with the gentle mixture of fear. What would motherhood be like and would I be good at it? All I knew was that strong desire to mother was within and we would figure it out together. I would grow into motherhood with each breath she took.
Three days before Christmas something happened. I knew something was wrong, I began to miscarry a dream and a fragile life. I could see it every time I looked in the mirror, fear taunting me. I spent a few hours in an ER room longing to hear a heartbeat that was never meant to beat.
