A foggy winter morning
Posted onI called the abortion clinic with a program for genetic abnormalities. Through sobbing, I managed to make an appointment for the following week to terminate the pregnancy. by Nicole K. On a foggy winter morning, I pick up the baby’s ashes at the post office. It’s just eleven days after his death. The small, square box is conspicuously labeled “Cremated Remains” which manages to even silence our chatty neighborhood postal clerk. I walk back to our minivan carrying a nearly weightless box while feeling the weight of the world. It takes a while for the tears to stop enough that I can drive. I bring […]