I thought grief would be the hardest thing I’d ever face. Then I heard my mother-in-law tell my husband I was useless because I couldn’t give him children. I spent the next 24 hours preparing for him to leave me. What he handed me made me realize that some people see broken where others see brave.The nursery door remained closed for three weeks.I couldn’t open it. Couldn’t even look at it without feeling like someone had reached into my chest and ripped everything out. Chris and I had spent months getting that room ready.We’d painted the walls a soft yellow because we wanted them to feel like sunshine. We’d hung tiny clothes in the closet and stacked board books on the shelf.Then I lost the baby five weeks before my due date.

The doctors said it happens sometimes, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.I became a shell after that. I slept until noon most days. When Chris brought me food, I’d take a few bites just to make him stop worrying.But I wasn’t hungry. I wasn’t anything. I just existed in this fog where nothing felt real, and everything felt heavy.Chris tried to help. He’d sit on the edge of the bed and ask if I wanted to talk, or take a walk, or watch a movie. I’d shake my head, and he’d kiss my forehead and leave me alone.
I knew he was hurting too, but I couldn’t reach out. I couldn’t reach anywhere.Kylie, please,” he whispered one night. “Just tell me what you need.””I don’t know,” I said. And I didn’t know, honestly.”I’m here,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”I wanted to believe him. But grief has a way of making you doubt everything. That was the truth that scared me most.