Understand that you CAN'T know...

... what this child would be like right now.

A few days ago was the Boston Marathon. Every year, the father and son team, the Hoyts, run the marathon. This Father and Son tea m is particularly amazing because Father pushes Son in a wheelchair, the entire race, and has for years.

They're a fixture of the race. They're covered by reporters every year.

This year, though, reading their story, I cried.

And when I read on, this year's profile told me that Son has CP, but also -- and I had never registered this particular piece of information before - he had been born with a cord wrapped around his neck, which caused lack of oxygen and paralysis.

We do not know what Grace's life would have been like. There is no one who can tell me. Even the doctor, reading the reports, can tell me only that there is indication of oxygen deprivation for more than 48 hours. Did that happen the week we lost her? Earlier? He shook his head. No way to tell. Could have been 6 weeks, could have been 72 hours.

NO WAY TO TELL.

No one can tell me a damn thing about what Grace's life would be like, what she would be doing right now, if she'd be anything like the children in my life (born in the months immediately before and after) who have become a benchmark for her .

It's silly for me to even try and romanticize how perfect her life would be.

She would have been a baby. A girl. With dark hair and dark eyes. And long toes and fingers. THAT'S ALL WE HAVE TO TELL.