I took care of a young woman with severe lupus that had affected her brain. Part of her medical history included a loss at 20 weeks. She kept saying to me from her hospital bed, “I was pregnant, I had a girl. But she died.” I kept saying, “I know sweetie, I know. I’m so sorry that happened.”
Today I opened up the photo of my bump at 17 weeks to show someone. I look at that photo with such pain and with such fondness. I want to reach through the screen and pat that belly. I want to reach through the screen and touch my daughter where she is still alive.