Kim waved goodbye, putting her beanie on before venturing out into the February snow. The last thing she wanted to do was go to therapy, today of all days. Once she'd told Deb that February 5th was the anniversary of her miscarriage, and they realised they'd have a session that day, she was warned that it wouldn't be an easy one. Adam had agreed to have Makayla for a sleepover that night, Kim knew she'd need the apartment to herself when she got home.

Deb's office was it's normal cheery self, a heart garland around one of the windows the only sign of the impending holiday. She sat in her usual chair in the waiting room before she was called in, and then picked up the twisty toy that Deb left out for her before curling up on the couch. Kim kicked off her sneakers to put her feet under her, curled up tightly.

"How're you feeling today?" She huffed. What a loaded question.

"I hate today. Adam always buys me food on Wednesday because of therapy. He knows it's why I tend to work through lunch, so he makes sure I have food. Today he got me my usual sandwich, but he included a chocolate brownie because of the date." The sandwich and the brownie were sitting in her car, unable to face food.

"I don't blame you. Anniversaries are hard. I want to try do an exercise with you about grief, and about your baby. What do you think?" Kim just nodded in response, so Deb continued. "I want you to get comfortable, and close your eyes for me. Tell me when you're ready."

Kim shifted her weight, burrowing into the couch. Her arms were wrapped around one of the cushions, her chin resting on top of it.

"I'm ready. I think."

"Ok. I want you to imagine you're facing your baby right now. Do you think it was a boy or a girl?"

The first tear fell from Kim's cheek, but she swallowed to speak. "I had a feeling it was a girl. We never got to find out, but Adam was convinced it was a girl. He wanted to be a girl dad."

"So your little girl is there. And she's just had an awful experience that if she'd changed a couple of things could have been avoided. What would you say to her?"

Kim's tears started streaming fully. "I-It's not her fault. None of it would ever be her fault. She did what she had to do and it was ok. She's ok." She kept her eyes closed, but tried wiping away the tears with a tissue in her hand.

"Kim, your daughter would never blame you. Just like Adam doesn't blame you. Just like you shouldn't blame yourself. I want you to give your daughter a hug and tell her you'll see her again. And then I want you, in your head, to get into a car and start driving away. You can drive wherever you want, but you need to drive away from her, ok?"

"I...I don't want to. I don't want to leave her alone. She's all alone." Kim's sobs were being pulled out of her chest, her fear and loss finally sinking in.

"She's not alone, Kim. Do you believe in an afterlife?" Deb's voice was calm but sensitive, and Kim used it to anchor herself.

"Maybe? In my job you don't want to think about it."

"If you do, you know your daughter's there with your family. With Adam's family. She's not alone. She'll never be alone."

Kim focused, putting her entire self in that space. Seeing Adam's mom wrap her arms around her granddaughter, promising to keep her safe. The vehicle Kim's mind conjured was Adam's Jeep, and she climbed in, putting it into drive and just going. Her mind was focused on her baby's face. She could see her so clearly, Adam's light brown hair, her hairline, his nose and eyes. She was the perfect mix of the two of them, made when they were so scared they'd nearly lost each other. No matter what happened between them, that baby was proof they loved so fiercely.

"You can open your eyes when you're ready, Kim." Her lashes were stuck together, and she had to wipe them to separate. Deb handed her over a box of tissues, and Kim wiped her face.

"I just…even now with Makayla, I'm her Mama. I'm a mother. But for two years before her I was a mother without a baby. My friends from high school were having kids, and I'd been so close to being there. I'd been pregnant. And then I wasn't. It was a tragedy and it brought me down, and I didn't know what to call myself. Even at my OB-GYN appointments, I had to fill out that stupid form that asked about previous pregnancies. And they'd ask how was the baby and I had to say I miscarried. I always felt like they were judging me." She wiped another tear away, angry this time.

"It was never simple or easy, and I spent two weeks after I lost her thinking I could feel flutters. I was twelve weeks and four days when I lost her. I knew every single change my body made in those twelve weeks like the back of my hand, but it was over and nobody could save me from it. There were some days I lay in bed trying to remember how to even breathe. I couldn't breathe without her, I couldn't keep going. But I had to. I had to or I thought I was letting her down." The tears didn't stop, and Kim put her hand over her mouth to stop the sob. She'd thought she was all cried out about this, but it was finally hitting her like a bullet. It wasn't her fault. It could have happened to anyone. It wasn't her fault they'd lost the baby.

"Kim, get it out. Let the tears fall. You need this." She heard Deb and continued crying, letting herself hear it. Letting herself feel it.

"I just…I let this take over my life and I lost my best friend because of it. Even before the baby, before everything, Adam was my best friend. And I pushed him away because of it. I think that's my biggest regret about all of this. I lost him, and I can put up with that, but I hate that I did it to him." She looked at her watch, realising their hour was almost up.

"For next week, I want you to write in your journal about all of this, ok? You've done amazing, Kim. This isn't easy to talk about or deal with, and you have been. You're doing so well. So go home, hug your daughter, and take a deep breath." Kim let out a hoarse giggle.

"Makayla's with Adam tonight. I told him today wouldn't be easy in therapy, and I needed him to watch her tonight and take her to school in the morning."

"And he agreed?" She heard the surprise in Deb's voice, but nodded.

"He calls himself her godfather and takes her to hockey games, of course he did."

"That sounds like more than just a coworker to me, Kim. Maybe do some journalling about your relationship with him?"

Kim nodded, wiping her eyes for the final time before leaving the office and going home. The apartment was too quiet when she got in, but she spent the entire night staring at her sonogram, looking at her daughter and missing her.