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It was sweet effing relief. After almost two months here, we were finally making the trip back home. While there were less than relieving reasons involved, it still brought a wide grin to my face when the sound of the wheels scraping the runway of Lindbergh field reached my ears.

Martha and Calvin were the first to welcome us home, with Calvin giving the usual manly hugs and pats on the back to his two sons and Martha going through a long streak of teary hugs and sobbing her thanks that her grandbabies were okay. She had insisted all three of them rode in their car with them as we came home from the airport. I realized it had probably been a wise choice to keep them oblivious to my pregnancy. Martha, for one, would have thrown a fit if her hopes of having a new grandchild were suddenly crushed by my miscarriage.

After almost two months away, I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be normal. My usual routine, the one I had when my life was still a simple cycle of getting Abby and