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The tragedy of a mother dying shortly after childbirth is a specific kind of grief; it is a “broken circle” where the beginning and the end meet far too soon. For these three infants, the world will be a place defined by an absence that is also a presence. They will grow up on stories instead of memories, constructed from the fragmented recollections of those who knew her best. Their understanding of their mother’s love will be curated through digitized photos and the graininess of phone videos—relics of a woman who was a hero before they were even old enough to know what a hero was. They will listen to the trembling voices of aunts, uncles, and grandparents who will try, through the fog of their own sorrow, to describe the specific shade of her laughter or the fierce protectiveness she felt before they had even taken their first breath.
