I had finally said it. I had finally verbally admitted to my husband what had been gnawing at me all morning.
It was the start of a brand new day. It was the start of a cycle -- another cycle -- that I didn't want to see coming. I was fine. I was really fine. I had dealt with this for the previous months since our miscarriage. And yet, something was eating away at me. I didn't want to be mad. I didn't want to be sad.
I just needed to know one thing.