10 Best Books for Navigating Fertility Struggles and Pregnancy Loss

I was sitting on the bathroom floor at 3 AM, staring at a pregnancy test that showed one line instead of two.

I was sitting on the bathroom floor at 3 AM, staring at a pregnancy test that showed one line instead of two.

The last time I spoke to my brother was at our mother's funeral. He said something cutting about how I'd "barely been around" during her illness. He wasn't.

I was standing in the kitchen at 2 AM, washing dishes that had been piling up for three days, when it hit me. Not the dishes—the realization that I hadn't.

I deleted Instagram on a Wednesday after crying in a dressing room. Not because of the fluorescent lighting or the jeans that didn't fit — although those.

I was standing in the corner of the conference room, holding a plastic cup of warm white wine, pretending to check my phone. The company holiday party was in.