He was so small, he fit in my hand, 4-5 weeks old, I still loved him heart and all, I held him in my hands still sobbing my eyes out for two hours on the bathroom tub, trying not to wake my husband, I cried softer and longer sobs, yet he wakes up and tries to unlock the door, I open it and I sit back down, I'm holding my baby cupped in my hands, still crying, he asks what's wrong, and I willingly open my hands and show him our baby...he tells me to put it down and hug him and tells me I'm not a failure because of this, and it happens when God thinks the baby won't make it or isn't healthy, so I stopped crying, accepted my baby's fate, and flushed it, because every single time I saw it I sobbed uncontrollably into my husbands arms. Today I wanted to cry but I haven't. And what's sad is that, the night before I had a dream I had a beautiful healthy baby boy, small and tiny and white but beautiful, and fate tricked me, and I had a miscarriage that same morning. I just can't believe my baby is gone. I want him back inside of me, making me dizzy and bloated, but happy. Life works in mysterious ways, I can't wait for my rainbow baby...sincerely, tiff, the one who wanted her baby flaws and all