Diagnosis: Non-viable

Everything in this house reeks of wet copper:
my cast iron skillets; the new carpet in the family
room; the Comet streaked shower tile and clogged

sink; my toddlers pumpkin patch hair, his apple round
cheeks, that just three weeks ago pressed flat
to my stomach, whispering like he had the juiciest secret:

Mommy, I just think there’s a baby in your belly.