The book is a memoir written about a mom's postpartum depression, the unimaginable loss of a child to SIDS, and her bumpy relationship with God. Amy Lyon (the author) writes of these things with such complete honesty--I still get the chills thinking about the things she went through and the gut-wrenching feelings she describes.
As I mentioned in an earlier post, my Dad and Grandma recommended I read this book. Amy Lyon, you see, is the wife of my dad's cousin, Chad. I was sure that this relation made my Dad and Grandma biased in their opinions of this book, and that it couldn't really be that good. But, thanks to a long car ride with not much else to do, I read it. And I couldn't put it down. It really is that good.
When I was about three-quarters of the way through it, though, it hit me. I am related to this precious baby--baby Isabelle--who died so suddenly, so sadly. It took my breath away. No, I have never met baby Isabelle, I don't even recall ever meeting her father (my dad's cousin). But, a part of my blood is hers. She is as closely related to my dad as I am to all of the babies that I have been posting pictures (up the wazoo) of on this blog (Kennedy, Quinn, Matthew, and Claire). I cannot imagine that feeling of loss.
Although you might be thinking otherwise, my opinion is not biased--I promise you, dear reader, this a must-read.
