She lost everything so quickly, she thought she was on track and then it happened. A miscarriage. Poor weight being the main thought of many doctors but of course it was never that black and white with such things.
She struggles thinking there was something she could do. Blames herself. Perhaps even her significant other.
Could she have eaten more?
Could she have skipped that one pizza takeout?
Could she have been healthier?
Could she have avoided holidays?
Could he have been better?
Could she have done anything different?
Could she have saved that little soul?
We’re they just that unlucky?
They need to overcome it but she seems to have hit the self-destruction button. The couple spirals downwards together, argues every day, everything seems to go wrong so quickly. Then.... she falls pregnant again.
This time will be different.
This time she’ll do everything, to the point of obsession almost.
Meanwhile, he feels like a sideline in his own life. He can only watch for fear of shattering already brittle glass. All the while he wonders if perhaps he could have helped, he could have made her better the first time.