Last September, my husband and I went on a beach trip. It was the second time in our 11 years of marriage that we had gone on a trip alone that wasn’t a hospital stay. It was a few short weeks after I discovered I had miscarried our fifth baby, Bridget. I was still overcome with grief and my body was only beginning to slowly heal from the physical trauma. I felt as if I had collapsed beside Our Lord at the Ninth Station of the Cross, cleaving to the dust. The trip was to help with…