My eyelashes are short and I am vain.

The puny strands strain under each wand-load of mascara pulled through by my confident hand. I’ve been performing this ritual for years in front of mirrors and from touchy memory.

Over the past several weeks I’ve had flashes and feelings regarding today. Thoughts of black rivulets running down my face would intrude in unguarded moments. Today would be a day of answers and direction. Good or bad, I would need to be waterproof. But I forgot.

I am pregnant. This afternoon I had my first ultrasound. With two previous pregnancy losses, followed by the incredible blessing of Beatrix, the day was frought with emotion. What would I see in that dark room on the dark screen?

I saw a sac, measuring a week behind my dates.

I saw a yolk sac, a perfectly round ring like a pineapple-white Lifesaver.

I did not see a baby. I should have.

When you step out into the God-sized side of life, come prepared. He never said it would be easy or pain-free. He never promised to leave me or anybody untouched by tragedy, loss, the valley of the shadow of death itself.

They are bringing me back in eight days. It will be a formality, I feel. Something to write in the chart noting we were both given a chance to show up, but only one made it.

Me. I always show up for these things and I always will.