As I flipped through the free local rag that is delivered on Thursday afternoons, I lingered over the Death Notices as I am wont to do these days. It was a tough week, apparently. The ages of the first 4 unlucky souls were 48, 63, 63 and 63. Gosh, that is just too young to die. My mom is 63. And then came the next one:
Infant Rachel M---- died January 29, 2010.
I know babies die. But obviously my awareness has been permanently altered. Now, instead of reading that and thinking to myself, "gosh, that's sad" before moving on to the next thing, I linger and try to imagine the mom and dad. Do they have other kids? Is this their first? Are they crying right now? Are they not sleeping tonight? I wonder how they're feeling right now--how they're coping. Gosh, they live in my city. I wonder if I will meet them at the perinatal loss support group next month. Or maybe I will pass one of them in the grocery store tomorrow. I wish I could do something for them. I wish I could do something for myself.