The second time I wanted to die also involved my children. It was not the pain of deliverance, though, not the surrender of acceptance. It was the powerlessness all parents are confronted with at one time or another. The guilt of a split-second of inattention.
Two weeks ago, at four months pregnant, I lost the baby: no heartbeat anymore, my little girl, gone.
I resign myself, with a sigh, to another day at home. Sprawled at my feet, two boys puck and bat each other like baby goats.