Last week, I took Tatoe for his regularly scheduled Library Toddler Storytime. I brought along my knitting, as I usually do, because toddlers can be boring. Afterwards, they were all playing with play dough and a woman I kind-of-know asked what I was knitting.
"A present for a friend's baby." I said. "She had some tragic events recently and I hope this baby makes it."
"Oh," she said. "We lost four. Seven pregnancies, three children. We lost three right in a row. I look at little girls who would be that age, sometimes, and I still feel sad. And nobody talks about it, or they do and then they get upset and you end up reassuring them and it's even worse. When did your friend lose hers?"
So of course I said "I'm so sorry to hear that, it's just terrible" and told her (in general, privacy-protecting terms, though these people will almost-certainly never meet) and we both sat there in front of all the small children and their parents and the librarian with tears streaming down our faces. I've never lost a child, but I know so many people who have, all the way from garden-variety infertility to sudden and inexplicable stillbirth, and it's such a tragedy and awful and terrible and I'm probably going to cry every time it comes up ever.
Anyhow. Clearly I should bring a different knitting project to the library.