Oh. Her attention had drifted off of his face while she spoke so fervently about the love of mothers, but they slide back to him when she hears the word again. We. Her eyes are large, like a startled deer. We. Mothers, like us. She wrings her hands uncomfortably, feeling an itch somewhere deep that she wishes she could scratch out. The words of the dead buzz in her ears like so many flies circling her ever-rotting body.

"Oh yes," she murmurs very softly, that swell of emotion that had touched her a moment before is gone. She shakes her head back and forth slowly, mournful. "But I won't see my little one grow. She's gone. She's gone forever."

It is hard for Mary to think that she made such a sacrifice only to receive nothing in the bargain. The idea makes her mind scream, and so she tries not to think on it too often. Tries to believe, the way that the faithful believe there is purpose to their suffering in God's world.