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When Lena’s husband dismissed her desperate pleas during a miscarriage, choosing birthday drinks over her life, she couldn’t have known the depths of his betrayal. But as lies unraveled, she discovered something far worse than his absence.
I’m 26 years old, and I just miscarried my baby. This was supposed to be our only child, the one we’d been trying for through three long, heartbreaking years of negative tests and crushed hopes.
I had spent months building dreams in my head about the way Matt would hold our baby for the first time, the soft yellow paint we’d use for the nursery, and even the silly little bedtime routines I’d whisper about while folding tiny onesies I’d already bought in secret.Continue reading…
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