"Well, what can we do about it?" Rick asked, glancing between me and Ronan and the doctor, digging in the diaper bag for the cell phone, but I knew enough about Tay-Sachs to know that there was nothing at all for us to do and that my life, the life as a new and hopeful mother, was over.

The doctor looked at the two of us. "No, I'm so sorry," he said. "There's no way to fix it."

"They die," I stuttered. I had the sensation of skin falling away from bone. I hugged Ronan more tightly. "They. Die." I wanted to vomit, and my grip on Ronan was scaring him. I loosened my arms slightly.

"What?" Rick asked. "Surely—"

"They die," I said firmly in a high-pitched voice, and this time he understood that I meant Ronan, that Ronan—our boy, our baby, our child—would die. The world was broken, and the three of us—Ronan, Rick and I—were falling into its mouth.

From The Still Point of the Turning World by Emily Rapp. Reprinted by arrangement of The Penguin Press, a member of Penguin Group (USA), Inc. Copyright (c) 2013 by Emily Rapp.