This little memoir is written by Elizabeth McCracken, who with her husband, also an author is living a nomadic life, living in both Paris and rural France. While waiting for the impending birth, she realises that she has not felt the baby move, and at nine months has to to deliver her stillborn son.
Both parents are devastated, and this moving book is the outpouring of their grief.
I cannot imagine their pain, not being a mother myself, but only get a sense of it after similar heartbreak within my only family, one that never feels quite complete, as someone is missing but not forgotten. I found the end of the book touching, especially when she writes about many of her friends who reached out to her, and were able to provide comfort with their words, tears and hugs. The importance of sending a card, making a call in troubling times even when you don't know what words to write. 3/5
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