I sat on the edge of the fountain, using all my energy to keep the brimming tears from breaking loose. The park was filled with people preparing for the remembrance walk. Even surrounded by other women who had experienced my pain, I felt alone. Five months had passed since the devastating ultrasound when the gut-wrenching words, “I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat,” had settled over us like a fog. Five months and I felt more lost and hopeless than the day we learned that we would never hold our first child.

As I sat there, the rough concrete hard and gritty under my white-knuckled grip on the fountain, I asked God the questions that I had been too broken to articulate. The ones hiding in the dark corner of my heart. Why did this happen? Where are you? Can you hear me? Do you care?

There was no answer. I have never felt so incredibly alone, rejected, forgotten, unseen, and unheard.

Read the rest of my guest blog post for Twelve Ministries here.