Three years ago on Christmas I had my second miscarriage of the year. On December 19th I was told the baby had no heartbeat. After many tears and a lot of cursing I left the office wondering how long I had until the miscarriage would start. I was married at the time and was not working. I went home and spent the next several days numb and fearful. I had a feeling in my gut that Christmas was the day. On Christmas eve my family gathered at my mother's house to celebrate. This particular year there was no joy. I had ruined everything. My mother and grandmother were crying upstairs. My father was chain smoking and stayed in the garage. My brother did not attend because he didn't want to "be a member of crazy town." Needless to say the party broke up early and my husband and I went home. At around 11:30 my pains started. I remember trying to find a cheerful movie to put on that I could listen to while all this was happening. I had settled on Sleeping Beauty and was just reaching for case when the whole thing started. My husband called my mother and went to bed. My mother arrived to find me in the bathroom sobbing in the bathtub. Nothing prepares you for the empty feeling you get where there once was life. Nothing prepares you for sadness and heartache. Nothing prepares you for this now horrible memory that never goes away. That this particular day on the calendar is the most dreaded of all 365. Everyone you speak to about it says it gets better. That the pain will lessen over time. But sometimes it just doesn't lessen or go away. And contrary to popular belief it is okay to hate the memory, the day, and the helpless hours spent crying and raging against the world. If you were pregnant for 15 minutes or 15 weeks you are still a mother. The only hard part is accepting you are a mother to a child who is not here on Earth. That you will never watch them grow from helpless baby to a functioning toddler. You wont get to watch them wait for Santa to come. But they are still a part of you. After these three years I am just as much a mother now as I was then, watching all my hopes and dreams slide away from me. So for once I will be honest. It hurts. It sucks and no one gets you because everyone feels different about things. It's okay to be mad and jealous at people with their bouncing bundles of joy. Lets be honest, all you have is a bouncing bundle of doubt. Doubt that you will get better and doubt that that next time it will all be okay. But again, its okay to feel that way.