As I begin to start my period again I feel like a failure to myself.

Why can't my body and mind communicate to make an alive human being?

Why do most of my friends, family, and extended family have children and I cant seem to hold onto one?

Why must people ask how many children I have? I want to tell them two beautiful angel babies, but my mouth wont open to say it. I haven't even told my husband about our second loss. I cant bring myself to say anything about it. I feel like I'm not worth anything and I'm unfulfilled, empty. Like a perfume jar missing its essence.

Why does this have to hurt so much and why cant the storm clouds above my head dry up and float away?

Why do I feel as though becoming a mother will never happen for me?

Why is there so much uncertainty in something so precious and darling?

Why is there no answers?

Where is has my hope run too?