Any one that tells you that life is nothing but peaches and cream is lying. You can be cruising at ten thousand feet one day and crashing into the prairie the next. This week was not a crash, but we weren’t flying high either. It began with pain. Cheryl was not feeling particularly well, and she decided it was bad enough to call her doctor. He didn’t think that a trip to the emergency room was warranted, but he wanted to see her the next morning to take a look. Cheryl was concerned, but I was trying to be the optimist in the family. I did half a day in court the next morning and accompanied her to the doctor afterwards. The nurse brought us right back and performed an ultrasound to see how the baby was doing. My untrained eye caught the problem immediately on the monitor: there was no baby. After the initial shock of not seeing what I so desperately wanted to see, the doctor spoke to us and confirmed what I had guessed. There were reasons to be optimistic for the future, it’s just that this future would not be as near as we had thought. We went home and I decided that I did not feel like working, so I didn’t go back. We didn’t feel like moping around the house either, so we went to a movie. I should have known that the movie of choice would not do Cheryl any good. We went to see Road to Perdition. I know Cheryl does not like dramas, and unhappy endings are worse. As predicted, the movie left a dark impression on Cheryl’s already gloomy soul. After picking up Beth and going through the standard weekday routine that evening and the following morning, we went to the hospital to bring this disappointing chapter in our lives to a close. A ten minute procedure kept us at the hospital for hours, and then we were done. Oh, if only that were really true.