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Miscarriage Three
by Trisha Kc Buel Wheeldon A long pause, then I know. “I’m not seeing a heartbeat.” The midwife taps the ultrasound screen. “There is the body. Do you see a beat?” “No,” I whisper. My husband brings purple orchids. Our living little daughter topples them then reaches down. She lifts stem necks in her fragile fist. “No!” I yell, jarring her. She lets go. Flowers fall again. |
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