I cried about how the doctor had confirmed my biggest fear—that all of this was, in fact, my fault, that it was my stupid body that killed Colette, and that I was a horrible mother. For the million reasons I love my husband, his ability to literally hold me while I sob and to comfort me is at the very top of the list. He told me that the only person who blamed me was me, that the doctor was reassuring me based on very little detail of my whole story and a lack of research and knowledge about pregnancy in general, and that I provided a great home to Colette for as long as I possibly could.