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My family.
Honestly, her reaction to the news was bigger than mine. She bought miniature socks with whales on them before I was even 12 weeks along.
But, at 19 weeks, the tiny, fluttering life inside me just… stopped.
Camden, my rock, my “solid” husband, cried for 20 minutes, held me tight for one night, and then never mentioned the baby again.
He started taking long, late “walks,” and sleeping with his back turned to me like a concrete barrier.
I was drowning, and he was swimming away.
Elise backed off, too, and that really stung.
When I asked why, she texted: “It just hurts to see you grieving. I’ll come when I can.”
Six weeks later, my phone buzzed.
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