The First Time the Trauma Door Opened

Opening the door a little started with writing just one experience, no matter the order. February 7, 2005: the day I miscarried. I didn’t want to eat, sleep, or even consent to the blood transfusion I needed—I just lay there with my eyes closed, feeling empty and broken. When I finally opened my eyes, I noticed a small plant beside my bed and gave it the name I had chosen for the daughter I miscarried.