Mom lost another baby again. Her doctor told her that the first trimester was the most critical time for the viability of the fetus, but he made the mistake of counting on my mom’s uterus. She almost made it to six months this time, three months longer than the first miscarriage.
My father was better this time around. He has been an absolute rock, if I’m being honest. Yesterday, Uncle Mitch called to tell him the annulment with Aunt Ophelia was final and that he was relocating to the West Coast. Dad seemed more angry than sad. I was more resentful than grateful that he didn’t want to talk about it.