“Good.”
He looked at the children.
“Mom, I want to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“Do you regret not telling us sooner?”
I thought about the months of swelling, the pain I had ignored, and the fear I had carried alone.
“Yes,” I said. “I regret allowing my fear to make decisions for me.”
He nodded.
“Do you regret not having another child with Dad?”
I looked at him for a long time.
“No. I regret not being honest with your father about what I wanted. I regret that he was not honest with me about what the doctor had said. But I do not regret the family we built.”
Michael looked toward his children.
“Neither do I.”
I took his hand.
“Your father wanted another baby because he was afraid of growing old. I think he believed that if we started something new, he would not have to think about the things he was losing.”
