A mom I see at my son’s dance class had a baby 2 weeks ago. Despite the fact that I had confirmed with the grandma the week before that everything went fine, when she showed up to dance on Thursday without the baby, my heart dropped.
Rather than wondering where the baby was, my first thought was that it died. Baby is fine, and was home with dad rather than being exposed to a dance studio worth of germs.
I felt utterly crazy after. What sort of weirdo jumps right to the conclusion of death? Who would think that? But in my world, babies die. Far too often. Just another way I’m different from mom’s who haven’t experienced loss.
This post is a part of Microblog Mondays