“Well, you seem like a very strong person.” With that statement, she fought back her own emotion, threatening to reveal itself, and uncomfortably ducked into another room, leaving me standing in shock as I muttered, “I try to be.” I think she really was trying to be kind, but her words stung. Was I chosen to go through this because I was strong? Why was I the one that had to be strong again when others never had to go through this at all? If I really were that strong, why did this hurt so much? Was it supposed to hurt less because I was strong? There were a lot of questions during those long, dark days. There were days that I didn’t want to be strong; I just wanted life to go back to “normal.” I wanted to wake up and realize that this was all just a horrible dream: I wanted my baby back!