Sunday morning in Portland. Just came to this corner cafe for caffeine and to enjoy a Caffe macchiato.
The wall art is life-size pregnant women made of fabric. The babe in her womb is upside down with the umbilical cord visible.
My heart skipped a beat and my stomach clenched. Even though my son turned 18 about a month ago, the part of me that had all those miscarriages and a baby die 16 years ago does not forget.
I don’t openly mourn those losses very often after all these years. Yet there are certain instances that stab me in the heart and yank the scab off, even now. Wish that weren’t so. Yet, it is.