Today has been marked on my calender since the day I learned I was pregnant. It is the day I would have been 12 weeks pregnant. My first miscarriage happened on the first day of week 12. I viewed this day as a hurdle, and a sigh-of-relief kind of day.
Today Ruth called to ask me for help. She is having a miscarriage. I told her what to do, what to expect. I sat on a case of water bottles in the Dollar Tree while my kids played in the Halloween decorations, and listened to her cry. I listened to how she shouldn't be here, how confusing it all was, how devastated she is. I listened as she told me how unsafe she felt, like nothing would ever be safe again, that she is not immune to other losses that may come. I listened as she panicked and tried to hold on to her faith, and as she told me how much she had wanted this baby.
All I could say was, "I know."