Thank you to Krista Cox for submitting such a beautiful piece. This is the first guest post in honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. I am still welcoming any and all types of submissions for the month of October if you would like to make a guest post. E-mail: cari@twentysixandfour.com

Grief Carny – By: Krista Cox

It was a beautiful blue-sky Colorado day although the weather did not reflect the somber-faced group gathered around the newly fresh pile of dirt towering over a tiny, heartbreaking hole.

I sit in my car, two minutes late. My husband sends me a text message, trying to instill courage. He tells me to be strong, be present, be a friend. And I listen.

I join the crowd as meaningful, beautifully religious words flit through the air. I comply when asked to use the reverse-side of the small shovel and hesitantly drop a pile of dirt into the hole, covering the casket. I feel quiet tears begin their chosen, slow descent and I try to make them disappear.

 —

We were haunted by grief.

Searching, seeking out a place to release our searing pain.

We cut into a thousand pieces my hospital bracelets and climbed to the top of a jagged rocky mountain.

He perfectly, precisely, carved a cross into a pine and we buried our loss, our hope, our joy.

Our fleeting burst of sheer wonder.

Just us, crying with fingers entwined.

It was something, somewhere.

Our remembrance place.

—

My friends are angry. I don’t blame them. I’ve been there, although we must have differing levels of loss. Is that even measurable? Does there exist a grief-quantity index?

Other storytime moms tell me their own painful stories. We speak in near whispers or in quiet conversations, almost ashamed to share this unwanted bond. We seem to qualify our common histories with an asterisk of sorts:

*not technically a baby.

Maybe the worst part of a miscarriage is the guilt of actually mourning the loss coupled with the fear of overstepping some sort of grief boundary. Like some traveling Carny has grief yardstick and our grief must be “this big” to get on the worst fucking ride in the universe.