But my husband held me back, his eyes darting everywhere but my face.
"She's gone. Nothing's going to bring her back. You love kids so much, we can always have another one."
The world spun. And then it clicked. Every last bit of it had been deliberate.
But I got a second chance.
This time, when my mother-in-law stood on the other side of the door demanding I mop, I wasn't in any rush.
The only difference was this:
The one crying wouldn't be me. It would be her.
I.
I carried Lily Abbott into the smaller bedroom of the master suite and rocked her to sleep, then gently removed her hearing aids.
The moment I set them down, a heavy thud echoed from the main bedroom.
I hurried out, locked the smaller bedroom behind me, and then I saw him. Dick Butler was sprawled on the floor, convulsing. Within seconds, foam gathered at the corners of his mouth and he went still.
This wasn't the first time I'd seen this.
So I grabbed a wooden chair and used it to shove the short-circuiting toy away from his hand, then pressed my palm to his chest.
I wasn't a doctor, but I'd taken emergency first-aid training more than once.
The verdict was immediate.