Yes, I made my daughter's middle school math teacher cry...

But it's not what you think. I was not being the mom from hell.

I was sitting across from Mrs. H., and she was giving me the usual spiel on yes, my daughter was doing fine in the class, all As, nothing to report. She did then mention that my daughter seemed more mature, more thoughtful (not the first word that comes to mind for me), more reserved than the rest of the class.

I took a deep breath and gave Mrs. H. the back story. I said that perhaps it was because, when she was seven, her younger sister, Sara, died in a third trimester miscarriage, and then when they were taking Sara's tiny body out of me, the operation went all sideways as the DC device punched through uterine wall, chewed up the intestine. Emergency surgery, collapsed lung and one worried husband later, plus post operative pneumonia, well, you get the picture. My daughter was wondering if mom was going to come home at all.

Mrs. H. then started to cry. She had just lost a child in a similar manner, a girl, I think. She asked if it ever got any better - and to not get her wrong, she loves her three-year-old son. Yes. And no. Your life, as you knew it, is napalmed out of existence. (Actually, the worked fucked comes to mind.) You have to learn to rebuild, with a family that is more than ready to move on and you're not. And some part of you will always live, bookmarked in that time.

You have to put up with the cruel remarks (you can always have more kids, it's for the best, it's God's will.)

And I think the incident, along with me being back in Washington DC during Sept. 11, marked my daughter, and me.

You don't take life, or each other for granted anymore. I remember when she was sitting in the bathtub talking with me, and I could really see her for the miracle she is. This is when she let me sit with her while taking a bath. Now, she just hands the hairdryer through the door, with a towel firmly wrapped around herself.

And even if she can't stand the sight of me, she doesn't want me out of her sight for long. When I mused over a job that would take me out of town for long stretches recently, she absolutely, positively forbid it.

"You were gone for three months in DC," she said.

I was back there for five days, and finally got on a flight that took for-ev-er to get from DC to Seattle.