The Day I Almost Kidnapped a Baby

Grief can turn you into someone you’re not

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Days after having my fourth miscarriage, only months after my third, I was feeling low and defeated. I knew I needed to get out of the house. My husband was coming home from a trip that evening, so I decided to get some groceries.

It was like any other day at the supermarket. People coming and going, while others stood at the checkout.

I followed my regular path through the store. Autopilot seemed fitting for the way I was feeling. I checked off my list. My cart was almost full. Then, I heard it. In the distance, the cry of a newborn rushed to my ears.

I instinctively followed the beautiful sound. It was the purest cry — one I had been desperately longing for. It captured my every being. I felt compelled to get closer. As I moved, the magnetic melody drew me in.

There she was, tucked in her car seat and placed inside a shopping cart. She was wrapped in a pink blanket. Her face was scrunched up and intense. Her little hands were waving as she wailed and called to my heart.

I froze watching this tiny being screaming and helpless from a distance. For what felt like hours, I stood there. I was trapped in the heartbreaking world of childlessness, after losing another precious soul.