I had not died with her.I was in our backyard, trimming the rose of sharon, a bush that had become unruly with my neglect. Weeds twisted around the flowers, practically concealing them. My hands were deep inside the branches when a wasp flew up my shirt. I tried to shake it out from the bottom but it stung me repeatedly, and I started to laugh. I laughed so hard, I sat down in the grass, and then began to sob. It was the first time in months that I'd felt anything at all. The first time since I'd miscarried my daughter that I realized I had not died with her.