You're my phantom limb.

Before it happens to you, you think it won't happen to you. You might worry, but in the back of your mind you know that it won't be you. You won't have a miscarriage. You won't lose your baby. That happens to other people. Not you.

But then it does happen. To you.

And then you're in this club...the worst club. For obvious reasons, but also because, for the most part, we don't talk about it. It's too sad. Nobody wants to hear about that. It makes people feel awkward. Just keep it to yourself.

There are so many of us. So many. But I bet you didn't know that I'm in the club. And I probably don't know that you are too.

It's okay to keep it close, if that's what you need.

But it's okay to talk about, too. It's not your job to make sure others feel comfy, especially not when you're going through, quite possibly, the worst thing of your life.

And on that note, it's okay if it's not the worst thing that's ever happened. It's okay if you don't feel lots of emotion and need time to grieve.

It's okay to be angry. Even over the little things. The unintentional things. 

I'm in a mom group. I remember after it happened to me, a couple months later my friend got pregnant. Cue jealousy!

And other girls made comments about "the first pregnancy since our November babies."

Cue anger.

I can look back now, with a clear head and see that, of course they meant nothing by this. But at the time, I wanted to crawl in a hole.

And my friends know this. I'm thankful that in that dark time, I had such a wonderful support system. People that would listen, without judgement. People who understood. People who didn't understand, but still cared, deeply.

Unfortunately not everyone has that.

Do you need that now? Let's talk. Email me. Call me. Text me. Don't really know me? I don't mind, if you don't. Keep it anonymous if you'd like, but I'm putting it out there now, that I'm here for you. You don't have to carry the hurt alone.

Right around now, I would have a one year old. But I don't.

I do have a 5 month old. And I am so beyond, beyond, beyond grateful.

It's a very terrible, confusing bitter sweetness.

How can you feel both happy and sad? I don't know.

But I do know that I think of them all. I love them all. I always will.

Lydiajkassinger@gmail.com