It has been four years since one of the hardest days of my life. The day of my D&C, after what was the most traumatic, medically and emotionally, miscarriages that I had experienced up to that point. I really believed they would find a heartbeat that morning. Deep in my heart I had that hope, I didn't feel like she was gone. Yes I already thought of her as a she, the baby was already real in my mind and in my heart, and in the minds and hearts of my family. Exactly one week before, I was doing laundry in my house, carrying a laundry basket up two flights of stairs, while my three-year-old son yelled after me "mommy, you can't do laundry, you have a baby in your belly!" And I remember as I walked up the stairs hearing his words, hearing my grandmother's voice in his voice, wondering why I heard her, chuckling to myself that maybe she was there. It was her birthday, after all. But there was no heartbeat and the D&C went on as scheduled and I came home bro...