I cracked

It could've been a joyous day, a blessing, a celebration.

I had this little life inside me.

But in a instant, it was gone.

The doctors words sliced my soul, "I'm so sorry, Leah, but it looks like you've had a miscarriage."

I just sat in shock as my hands trembled and stomach tightened. I barely held it together as I picked up my bag and walked out of the room. I crept to the car, staring at my toes and counting my paces in an effort to avoid all the pregnant bellies pouring into and out of the doctor's office.

I don't have time to be upset, I told myself. Life will go on.

I climbed into the car with shaky steps, and stared into the blue sky. You have one happy, healthy little girl. Why is that not enough? Why are you being so greedy? The voices quizzed me, but I had no answers.

I closed my eyes and wished with all my might that it was all a dream.

As I put the car in reverse, and glanced behind me, I saw Ryanne's car seat and reminded myself that I should be thankful for that blessing.

I clutched the steering wheel like I was holding onto my sanity and made my way away from there.

It felt as if I was trying to hold onto melting butter that was slowly slipping through my fingers and out of my grasp.

My mind raced as I drove, but I kept telling myself that there was reason and purpose. God has a greater plan than I do.

Out of nowhere, a rock flew toward my windshield and I watched as it cracked from top to bottom.

And I cracked. The tears I had fought so hard to hold back rolled down my cheeks, my chest, and onto my lifeless stomach.

Why us?

What did I do wrong?

Is this my fault? Am I not good enough to be the mother of two?

Why did I not get to hear the happiness of a heartbeat, but instead my own heart shattering when there was nothing to be heard but hollow air?

With the passing of one moment, everything changed.

Months we had spent wishing and hoping to make our family one of four, but we were told no.

It was not our turn yet.

". . . At least you have Ryanne."

My soul aches for more. I want her to have a sibling. I want to be more than the mother of one.

Her precious words, "Want a baby" echo in my head even thought I'm not quite sure she knows what she's asking for.

I failed at giving her that. I failed. My body failed.

And for now, my heart is living in a cracked state. The scars are new and fresh. Little lines that will forever define my life.

When I stare at the cracked glass, I am reminded how in an instant your world can shatter.

*This is not meant to demean or offend any person or event, but was written merely as a means to share my emotions, and serve as a type of therapy for me. Writing makes me feel better.*

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