The pages are the places we go when we are weary. Where the darkness can become a little lighter, the truth a little kinder, the world a little smaller. They are the places we go to when we don't know where else to go, or before we go anywhere else in the world. The pages hold our souls like an envelope does a love letter. We go to them when we are broken so they can put us back together again. When we are forgotten they remember us. When we are lost they find us. The pages are the places we find ourselves.
Today is the fifth anniversary of our little boy, Ciaran, who I carried for almost 4 months before his heart stopped beating. I can’t believe it has been that long already. The night we went into the hospital and delivered his tiny unbreathing body, there was an ending, and a beginning, and everything in between. It is fitting then, on this day, that I honor him by sharing with you a little book I wrote. It’s called " A Unicorn's Mother " and it is written for my sweet boy, b ut also for all of the incredible women who also know the brutal truth of miscarriage; who have had to say goodbye to a child unborn and unseen, whom you desperately loved and wanted. And it’s a special nod to all the remarkable mama’s who wrote to me, who shared their own stories of their own little unicorn’s when I felt all alone. No one wants to say “Welcome to the club,” but here we are. I love you all.