The Nurse

She was prepping me for surgery, fiddling with my IV bags and settling me into my wheelchair.

"So you have no children?"

I paused. My life has been full of such pauses since February when Haven died. Moments when everything stops and I have to choose whether to educate someone or let their insensitive comment pass.

"How can she ask such a question when she knows I am miscarrying," I thought. "When I just told her that my daughter died this winter. How can she not realize that I am in agony?"

I hated her then. 

Remorse. 

I hated her again. 

Resignation.

The pause ended.

"No," I muttered. "Only dead."