I wrote this piece recently for a live story-telling show about motherhood called Listen to Your Mother. It was a wonderful opportunity to prepare this story and then read it to a live audience in San Antonio. I share it with grief and hope. LS It was ten years ago this March—ten years ago that the doorbell rang sometime after seven in the evening on that Saturday night. I was already upstairs getting ready for bed, feeling bulky and cumbersome at nearly 41 weeks of pregnancy. Our three-year old daughter was sound asleep, and I resented this unexpected intrusion into a quiet evening with my husband John. Through the beveled glass of the front door I saw my parents and younger brother. Why would they just drop in unannounced when they lived an hour away? I opened the door with a smile, trying to cover the curiosity and irritation I felt. But when I saw their faces, my stomach churned. “W...