The class was playing bingo. It was French, and he didn’t know the words, but it didn’t matter. He knew the alphabet, so when she wrote the words on the board, he could visually match them to the ones on the playing card.
When Baby D was born, he was born crying and robust. His APGAR scores were high: 9 and then 10. His colour was good. He appeared healthy and strong. We placed him skin to skin on my chest, and as he calmed his breathing settled into small rhythmic moaning sounds. We thought they were adorable. He was adorable.
I haven’t talked about my miscarriage very often, or with very many people. There’s a perception that these things need to be kept hidden, that they are private. Maybe we join a pregnancy loss forum where we discuss it with other women going through the same thing, maybe we talk it over with our partners or therapists, but we don’t talk about it publicly.