Not on Wednesday, when I knew something was going wrong.

Not on Thursday, my day in waiting.

Not on Friday, when the blood tests showed the future.

A bit on Saturday, the contractions hurt so badly.

Not on Sunday, the day after it was over.

I cried on Monday.

Alone in the ultrasound room, looking at an empty womb, I prayed that God would hold me tight.

You always cry harder when someone is holding you tight.