Hope was a fickle thing. One that you and Simon had long since lost over time.

It had been three years since you and him made the decision that you were ready to start trying for a baby, and to finally get the family you’d been dreaming of since the two of you read your vows aloud. You were finally ready.

It was the next and final step in your lives, and a big one. Your futures revolved around it, and plans were made. The first pregnancy test you took was done with hushed laughs and giddy excitement. When it showed negative, you just sighed and reassured each other that it was just the first.

The first of many.

Because after each negative test, it stopped ending with hopeful reassurances, and started ending with tense silences, full of words you and Simon were too scared to say. Because maybe if they went unsaid, and the questions went unasked, they would be easier to ignore.

But, of course, eventually you did. Which led to getting the first IVF treatment. It sparked hope that you both had thought was gone, and for a moment it felt like the start all over, and you allowed yourselves to dream again.

To dream of playing catch on the front lawn of your suburban family house with your future child, and reading bedtime stories at night. You’d have family dinners at the kitchen table, where you’ll be able to laugh again like you did before.

Until, of course, the hope was killed. Because a year of multiple failed IVF treatments killed it, stomping it into the same pile of dead, crushed dreams. For the first time, you’d given up; resigning yourselves to the harsh reality that you’d never have the family you’d spent the years hoping for.

This months cycle was uniquely bad. Your usual cramps went from annoying to debilitating, and your period was especially heavy to a concerning level. The trip to the hospital and all the tests was just a precaution.

Simon was holding your hand, thumb gently rubbing over your knuckles when the doctor walked into the waiting room, calling your name. You both stood and followed him into his office.

“Unfortunately,” he begun, “I’m sorry to say this, but you’ve lost the child.”

You froze. “What- what child?”

“You were pregnant, Miss. I’m afraid you’ve miscarried.”