I sat on the bed and went through the basket I had pulled down from the top of the closet. Items I hadn’t seen in some time, many put up there because they had no other place, others because I didn’t want to see them anymore.
Soothers that had been taken away by the “meme” fairy, pictures of a 1-year-old, phone chargers that didn’t fit any of our phones, and then a shirt I had forgotten about until I placed my hand over its green fabric.
My heart jumped.
Two years ago this month.
October will always be bittersweet. A month filled with warmth, falling leaves, beautiful colours, and the promise of upcoming holidays, but filled with so much sadness.
The month I said goodbye to a developing new life.
The pain sits in my heart waiting, I know it’s there, I can feel it every time I see a newborn, every time I pass the baby section, and each time someone asks me, “when are you having another one?” I work through it with the knowledge that I have a beautiful daughter who I love more than anything in this world and I am blessed.
But in October that strength seems to crack.
I remember the sense of guilt I felt when we were told we had miscarried. The feelings of hopelessness, the anger, and the sense of loss.
I remember hating everyone for their condolences because how could they possibly know what it felt like to lose something I was connected to physically?
I remember the ache in my heart.
October hurts horribly.
Running my hand over the folded shirt, two sizes two big for our daughter when we bought it but a perfect fit for her now, I tuck it away and slide it back into the closet.
One day it might not hurt so much.
But there will always be a piece of my heart missing.