"You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation, trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened . . . or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on."
For me, this applies to infertility and all of its effects on a person's life. Especially on a couple's life together. Those pieces on the floor run the gamut. Big shards you can safely pick up and discard; smaller slivers that slice open a vein before you feel the blood flowing; tiny particles that fly off in all directions and show up later to abrade you — maybe you notice the grit when you roll over in your bed, place your bare foot in a shoe, or rub your eye with your fingers.