I spent years believing nothing could hurt more than almost becoming a mother and losing it all. Then, just when I thought that chapter of my life was finally behind me, something happened that made me question everything.
I stopped counting how many times it didn’t work.
At some point, you just stop asking for numbers and percentages.
You stop asking yourself what you did wrong.
All I knew was this: every time I got close to becoming a mother, something slipped through my hands.
I stopped counting how many times it didn’t work.
My husband, Daniel, never said much during those years. He just stayed. He sat next to me in waiting rooms, drove me home after appointments, and held my hand when there was nothing left to say.
We tried everything to get pregnant.
- Endless tests
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