First, second, third…. trimester… lost pregnancy. They come with numbers, and those of us that can relate can assign. Numbers, stats, Google. Doctors and re-directed plans. Then comes your mom or someone’s best friend, anyone to melt your frozen heart. And life just moves on while you do your best to not drown in the why. Unfair. Exhausting. Delete the baby app—again. Is it you? Us? It? Or as simple as a life not interested in living, a human who didn’t want to grow—fully or at all—in me?
“Give it an androgynous name,” my mom said after my second in the first.
So I did.