More than once my life has deviated from a day spent in Disneyland. The happiest place on earth.

Miscarriage. I had one between my two children. My oldest was 2 1/2 when the miscarriage ocurred. I was in my 12th week. It was Christmastime. Fa, la, la, la, la and all that. I had gotten the tree decorated. It was cold outside. Not my favorite weather. I do not embrace winter. Very difficult to get through. And this made it more so. A lost pregnancy, a lost child, made the entire scenario more compromised. Life seems to offer that which is bliss and that which is cruel. This was not bliss.

I think all women who experience miscarriage grieve in a very isolated way. Husbands/fathers do not grieve in the same way. This is a woman’s body. The baby was tucked away in there under the guise that it was safe. It is a woman’s personal loss.

Who knows for certain why these things happen? In the morning I was lying in bed. Very strong cramps indicated the impending outcome. Within a few minutes I passed the fetus. The Christmas carols coming from the radio conspired against me. “Have a holly, jolly Christmas…” seemed especially cruel.

I was less one child. There was nothing joyous about that December. Sometimes it is just hell to be a woman. A mom. And then not a mom.