Today I ran into a woman at my son's school who i hadn't seen in awhile. She was very pregnant and when i asked her how she was doing she said "Only eight weeks to go!" Then it struck me. Her due date was the same as the one I had for my miscarriage. Had fate been different I would be standing there as huge (and cranky ) as she was. We would of been comparing notes. Eagerly awaiting our new little ones. We would probably have their name picked out. Their room ready. I know there are much worst things. My miscarriage was early, too early for me to really be attached to being pregnant much less to a baby inside. Do i even think of it as a baby? Did it have a soul? How many days did it's heart actually beat before nature stopped it. Maybe it never beat... I guess it's not so much the loss for me as the fact that i haven't been able to get pregnant since then. It's frustrating to KNOW that soul is out there and feel like you have no patience at all left. But giving up is unimaginable.