You guys. Hundreds of you.
Between the emails, texts, facebook comments and messages, instagrams, tweets and your comments on yesterday’s post – I am overcome with support and love. So many of you share the same silence, I encourage you to let it out. It feels so good to be free of the secret burden. It feels so good to know you’re in our corner. It feels so good to put a face to that stupid word that does my heart no justice: miscarriage.
Strangers, family and friends alike – I have heard each of your sentiments loudly and profoundly.
While the words are different, they all mean the same thing: “You are not alone.” It echoes like an empty hallway in my heart. It vibrates my insides and tingles my skin. I feel you, so deeply. We love you.
Whether you’re a friend reaching out to say “I wish it wasn’t so” or a stranger that’s recovering from your own unimaginable loss – I am so honored to share in your story and your emotion. Thank you for trusting me with your stories. Thank you for listening to mine.
I don’t want this to become a sad place where left over pizza goes to die, so we are going to wipe our tears and cheer this business up – but I had to give proper thanks for all the smiles and happy tears you’ve given me in the past 24 hours.
Since it’s clear my world is a little upside, I decided I really needed something familiar to root me to our home in Columbus. I’ll be surprised if you don’t already know, but it’s Edison. That stupid light is like a mason jar beacon of happiness for me. It seriously did not feel like my house until we put it up. I say we like I had anything to do with it.
I’ll spare you the details, since we’ve already covered it once before, but these gents changed this bad boy up in about an hour. Not bad.
Caught the belly scratch on camera. My life is complete. Yes, he is standing on a whiskey barrel. Yes, those super 1980s dining chairs are getting a facelift. Yes, my dad has tan legs.