you never forget your first fall.
Being a good mother, it seemed to me, meant you ran the risk of losing your child.
I truly believed that the cost of success for us shouldn't be the cost of failure for a good friend.
What we all want, really, is to be loved. That craving drives our worst behavior.
There are legions of us, I realized. The mothers who have broken babies, and spend the rest of our lives wondering if we should have spared them. And the mothers who have let their broken babies go, who look at our children and see instead the faces of the ones they never met.
Sometimes it made her want to put her fist through glass; other times, it made her cry a river.