It’s been 9 months since my miscarriage. 9 months of seeing other women celebrate their pregnancies. 9 months of other couple’s baby showers. 9 months of constant social media announcements that I just can’t stand to read anymore because I wish it were my own. 9 months of physical and emotional pain and trying to be OK when I am absolutely not. 9 months of hell. 9 months of hoping for something to break through the sadness and bring me joy. 9 months of wishing we could be parents. 9 months of prayer. Maybe someday. Hopefully someday. And I write all this as I’m about to hide my pain yet again at a baby shower tomorrow. I should have a 3 month old at this point.