When Roux was born, so violently and surrounded with chaos, I had never previously experienced such pain or trauma. The weeks after his delivery were some of the darkest, most agonizing, intensely challenging. It took me close to two years to begin to regain a solid footing, just in time to find myself pregnant again.

Learning that I was expecting a fourth baby brought to the surface a lot of dormant fear and anxiety I had suppressed in the wake of the beginning of Roux’s life. I wasn’t focused on healing, I was focused on surviving, so I never directly addressed much of what I had encountered. But with another pregnancy rapidly progressing, I knew I needed help, to process the underlying and residual PTSD so that I could be prepared to welcome a new member into our family.

Losing that baby was so hard. It is still so hard. The agony of those days, and the weeks thereafter, was all consuming. Never had I been so devastated, hollowed, broken.

Which makes my current situation all the more hurtful. Because this is, by far, the worst.

It just doesn’t seem possible. And yet, here we are.

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