even heroes have the right to bleed-

It's Sunday again. 

I still think it's the baby kicking when I have gas or feel something weird in my stomach. I still look down to see my belly, or find myself touching it every now and then. I hate it when my husband touches it, and proceed to tell him (in case he's forgotten)... "it's empty."

That's exactly how I feel... empty. My belly is empty. My heart is empty... I'm empty. 

As if I needed it, my body is a constant reminder that I'm not pregnant. The nonstop bleeding, the breastmilk during the first weeks, the pounds I have not managed to lose. 

I remember how empty I felt when I had the D&C for baby no. 1. This time around, it's much worse. No words make me feel better. There's no light at the end of the tunnel. There's nothing to look forward to. Everything is just dark. 

Some have said to me: "you look better". I smile politely and carry on. What constitutes "better"? What makes them think I'm doing "better"? That I don't walk around work crying? That I don't cry myself to sleep?

I've only cried three times and it's almost been four weeks. I have managed to only let my tears run freely when absolutely necessary, avoiding unsolicited advice or others worrying about me constantly.

And although I don't cry, the heartache and memories are ever present. 

I'm hurting. I'm broken. I'm undone.