How do you leave the party at which your child has died? I guess you just leave. The door shuts behind you and then you’re standing on the front steps. A two-foot shadow beside you. I lie awake, one hand on my stomach, imagining the parents in their driveway. An empty car seat behind them. How do you get out of the car that holds the car seat of your child who is dead? These are the things I’m trying to figure out.
