Gutted is about the only way I can describe my current state of being. Or humiliated. Or maybe it’s just vulnerable.

And sorry. So very, very sorry.

I can’t help but feel responsible, that’s the narcissist in me. It’s always my fault. I’ve created this chaos, this unsettling, this trauma. This is happening because of me.

Of course, the part of me that is eternal, and wizened beyond common rationality, is aware of what has happened, is happening, has yet to happen. And there is no blame, there is only now.

What I know for certain is that I’ll be alright, I’ll pull through this, I’ll reconcile this loss somehow.

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