
A beautiful young woman in her final trimester—radiating vitality yet garbed in grief—setting her husband down on his bedside table with trembling hands, knocking over orange pill bottles, lost in visions of what-will-never-be, staring at the clay urn until her toddler cried out for her, waddling out of their bedroom, wiping away a tear.

Praying that her support person is walking in the door to be with her for as long as she needs.
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