Every time I see a very pregnant woman – and there were a lot of them today – I want to strike up a conversation. I want to be friendly, kind, curious and then I want to tell them my baby died. I want them to know how lucky they are. I want them to know they shouldn’t ever take it for granted.
I want them to share a piece of my pain and then thank their lucky stars it’s not them. At least not yet.
After all, anyone can join the dead baby club.
Of course I don’t do this. But, oh, how I want to.