Sometimes I feel as though my heart is a ruptured uterus, bleeding after a stillbirth. And the doctors won't answer any questions. They won't tell me why, why did it die? Was it something I did? When did it die, did it live at all? Why? They close their faces to me. All they say is that they will not answer questions, that I have to stop asking why and just get over it. Was it their fault? This is the question I am not allowed to ask. I must forget. But I cannot forget and I am not a person who can ever stop asking questions. Please, can I just see it, so that I can know that it's dead? No. A thousand times, no.

A nurse whispers to me a conspiracy theory. I consider, then sweep it aside in my mind. I cannot believe in such heartlessness. But confronted with the cold wall of silence, of not asking, of not knowing anything.....her words haunt me sometimes.

I cannot know, and I am broken inside. I cannot carry love within me like that again.