Seven years ago my wife and I had a miscarriage. I don’t think about it as often as I once did. And I suppose that looking at our family from the outside, some might think that because we have so many children, I never think about it. But I do. Last Sunday was the anniversary of the long day in a hospital when we learned part of our family tree would be missing.

A few years ago I wrote a short story about a couple who has to return to life after a miscarriage. Over the years, it has surprised me to learn how many couples have had one, or even several, miscarriages. In the story, a husband and wife (Joshua and Allison), as well as their other young children, learn what it means to move on after losing a child. You can get it here.

*     *     *

Excerpt from “Lost in December: A Short Story”

It had been a cold day in December, and not just for Tucson. It was made worse by the way it forced itself on us. No one had the right coats with them; it had been warm when we woke up.

Allison and I hadn’t talked all day, and we had driven to the Christmas party separately. She had errands, and I had work to finish. But now we made the brief walk from our separate cars to the restaurant together. “I’m glad you could come, sweetie. Did the babysitter show up?” I asked Allison.

“It’s cold. Let’s just get inside.”

That day, even the foothills, which never have snow, were white. My wife had goosebumps.

As I held the door open for her, I commented that I didn’t remember coming to this restaurant before. She said they were all the same. 

*     *     *

If you’d like to get a copy of the whole story, click here.