This is still very raw, but I don't know any other way to share it. We are so quiet, so secretive in our culture about miscarriage - in fact about any hurt we are carrying. Grief is real and necessary and allowed. So here it is - this is where we are at right now.
Why hasn't the world stopped? Why is everyone just carrying on as if nothing has happened? Don't people know that we just lost a baby??
I want to scream it out. I want to grab people by the shoulders, shake them - make them see. I don't understand how it is that everyone is just able to carry on with their day-to-day business as if everything is normal.
Nothing is normal now. Everything looks the same, but it's all changed. One minute we were pregnant, expecting our fourth child, the next - it was all gone. Snatched away from us in that moment when the scanner touched my pregnant belly.
We knew. We knew before the sonographer told us. We knew before we even entered the scan room. Little things in the previous couple of days - nothings on their own, but together painting a bleak picture of our hopes and plans. We saw the stillness on the screen, heard the words: "I'm sorry."
We sat and held each other; cried. Cried tears that felt like they would never end. At home, we told our children, told my own mother, told others who were waiting anxiously for our news.
And now? Now, sadness envelopes us like a blanket. We do our best. Do our best to carry on, to go through the motions. The children need to eat - so do we, although it can be hard to feel like it. We sit with the sadness. Sometimes we laugh, make ourselves forget for a while. Mostly we're quiet, subdued, still slightly disbelieving that the future we envisaged will now never be.
Often we cry. We know the tears will help us to heal, but it will take forever to heal this hurt.
We have called her Caitlin. We won't forget her. Her sister and brothers have plans - we will choose her birthday, name the boat we are building after her, plant a rose. Our family of 5 is now a family of 6 - a family of 6 with a piece missing. A piece that never was; that was never meant to be. But a piece we wanted with us so badly. Time will move on; the world will start for us again. We will grow, change, laugh, love. But always, we will remember. And for now, we grieve.
For Caitlin Louisa Mary. Always in our hearts; forever missed.