Silent Communion

She's been struggling with infertility for 6 years. The latest cycle failed. Again. Still. Always.

I didn't bring my son to work for others to ooh and ahh over. I can't even bring his photo to the office.

And I walked over to see the new baby, to ohhh and ahh, and coo. To tell his mum that he is the most beautiful baby ever. To rub his cheek and clasp his finger, and wish that my son had been like him.

I looked in her eyes. She looked in mine. My hand rested on her shoulder, for just a second.

No false promises that this time next year we will have children, no promises that things will get better, no stupid exhortions to buck up little camper.

Simply an acknowledgement that this was hard. Gut wrenching, heart breaking, head bowing, hard.

The pain in my heart, mirrored in her eyes.

Silent communion. Abiding. Strenght for the journey in what places we can find it.