On healing after losing a child and finding beauty in the cracks of one's shattered self.
The greatest creation I've ever made falls out of me at 18—my life's work dies. I watch in disbelief as what I thought was just a particularly horrible menstrual cycle produces something bigger than a blood clot. Something I could have named had it stayed inside me and grew. I miscarry on our toilet at exactly 7AM on a Monday morning, the day before Valentine's day.