I remember the days we looked into each other’s eyes and see the future right then and there. It was so clear, so obvious, so natural.
I realise now that we will never grow old together, never raise the child we conceived and nurtured from birth. We will never be that family. I’m not even sure if I will ever give birth again, even when it was what we hoped for – to raise a big family.
Our picture perfect has been shredded to pieces, scattered on to the bare concrete floor, whisked away by the faint wind.
We tried so hard, we believed so much yet we didn’t accomplish what we had planned. Separation was never an issue for us, which makes it all even more of a bitter pill to take. I have to start over, rearrange my life, my stay, my goals. Hand in hand with our child, down that road together, just me and him. A reminder of the time when you were a part in my life, a mirror of your face, an empty place in the bed where we used to hug.
A relief from the pain and sorrow that was breaking me a little more every single day.