I buried my face into the pillow and screamed. Screamed for the baby I would never cradle in my arms. The clean and innocent scent I would never breathe in. I screamed for the smiles and giggles and tiny handprints drawn on walls. I cried for the quiet nights whispering to Jericho as the baby slept between us. For never seeing him hold his child for the first time. I cried for every lost moment fate had stolen from me.
