Five years ago, there was no tree, no stockings, and no cheesy Christmas card. I remember the pictures we took that season. I forced every smile.
To be honest, our marriage had crumbled. Sure, every friend and family member who was happily anchored offered sound advice:
“Never go to bed angry.”
“Always say I love you.”
And my personal favorite, “You’ll always have each other.”
But a miscarriage ruined everything. I wanted to keep trying. My husband wanted to finish his PhD. And it seemed we were in pursuit of different children.
Unlearning 