Looking out my Backdoor: Una semana muy dificil

The first week in October is always a difficult week for me. It marks the anniversary of the death of my baby. He’d been alive that morning. He died that night when he was born.

Still a girl myself, I’d been married only a year and a half. My family did the thing they did best. They hid away all the pain and hurt. I thought that is what everyone did. Stuffed the grief into a hole and covered it with concrete blocks. Or heavy weight of a sort.

Of course, over the years, the pain, still alive, periodically exploded through the concrete, generally in inappropriate ways, cutting and bru...