Like sand through my fingertips, grasping for every little bit of hope I can find that what I hold most dear will not vanish. Has it already gone? Can it ever be again?

Who’s to say how it happened, why it happened, why it is happening. I want so badly to mend what is broken, like the ancient Japanese art of Kintsugi, reinforcing shattered porcelain with solid gold. But, I cannot do it alone.

I still believe. I will acknowledge the pain as an invitation for healing, and I will never lose sight of what is most important.

PS: I posted the ninth piece of my miscarriage recovery story, if you’re interested.