On the 16th, I was in yoga when a cramp began it. Within a couple hours, I knew the baby's heart had stopped and it was a fetal corpse. On the 18th, I had surgery to remove it, for it had been dead for some time already, days before that cramp, a couple few weeks maybe, and my body refused to give it up and kept feeding it and growing it anyway, a lifeless mass getting bigger with no beating heart. In all other ways except the lack of life, it was perfect, all my hormone panels perfect, the size of the uterus perfect. I was showing, I was glowing, I was happy. Then for 2 days, I curled around it dead, waiting and watching and promising not to give its name to another baby if ever we had one, saying goodbye. "But failure one conceals." - Virginia Woolf