Cars, trucks, busses, trains, people swarmed around us until we made our way to the highway and started moving in unison. News radio buzzed from the speakers. The clock’s green numbers inched closer to “the” time. Highway exits flew past. Tears streamed from swollen red eyes as my hand never left my belly. Life is so fucking unfair sometimes.
The doctor reappeared and told us both how things went, what we could expect, what we should look out for, what drugs he would prescribe for the pain I might endure. He was, of course, talking about the pain from surgically removing my dead baby from me, from the scraping of my uterus. What about my heart? What about the pain that my head and heart and soul would endure for the next several years?
This was harder than I thought it would be... but it's good to be back to writing again.