Is a widow ever not a widow anymore? Is a mother ever not a mother? Even if, God forbid, all her children die? In the sensation of the life within, in the pain of labor’s push, in the holding of a tiny creature that miraculously emerged from her own body, something shifted something changed that can never be undone. When a woman screams with devastation at the sight of her husband’s dead body, when she holds the cold, broken flesh, when she stands by the casket or carries the