Sometimes I wonder how I can experience so much grief over a small grouping of cells, a little embryo. But that tiny little ball of life represents a huge hole in my broken heart and soul. It means everything to me.
I have a good life with my husband. We are very lucky and grateful to have each other. Our love, our life – it fits nicely, like pieces of a puzzle. The picture on the puzzle box is beautiful and serene, but what’s in front of us is far from beautiful.
There are missing pieces, broken pieces. The puzzle is a mess. It’s hard to look at. It looks nothing like it’s supposed to. We have come close to putting it together, but then it falls apart again. We both want so badly to fill in the holes and make a beautiful picture that we can hold onto forever. It’s just that we can’t find those pieces yet. I hope they are out there somewhere.