When I was four/five years old, my mother suffered a miscarriage. I didn’t know she was pregnat at the time. Around that same period, I remember throwing a tantrum and kicking her hard in the belly.
I have no idea whether or not these two events are related to each other. Every day, I’m haunted by the possibility that I may, in fact, be the reason my baby sister/brother is dead. To say that I’m sorry doesn’t even encapsulate the remorse that I feel.
I’d never bring this up to ask my mother. Not only because she probably doesn’t remember what I did, but because I’m too afraid of the possibility that I killed my own sibling.
