I am the mother of three children, two living, one dead. Our second was hard earned, two miscarriages, six years and my son remained an only child. I had prayed in our local church, not having visited since a young reluctant teenager. I lit candles and kept a steady vigil, praying to this God that I Couldn't believe in, but my son remained an only child and his pleadings for a sibling persisted. Near my house lies one of europes oldest settlements, a rich archaeologic history and turning my back on the church, I wandered, son in tow, to the stone circle where Druids worshipped thousands of years before. Towering stones, hawthorn trees, magic all around, I lay my coin on the wishing stone and holding my sons hand, I prayed to the fairies for a baby. Folklore says that the fairies dance at the circle at night and so I imagined them holding my coin and hearing my wish. Magic happened that day and my son became a big brother ten months later. I passed the stone circle many times when my little one was born and reminded myself to bring her there and give thanks, but my little family was happy now and with no need for wishes, I simply glanced driving past. With my little one, whom we nicknamed pixie, now four months, I became pregnant again. But she was sick and her heart didn't grow properly and she left us at twelve days old. And so, one month after her death, I find myself with my wo living children in tow, back at the stone circle, laying a coin and wondering in my madness, did the fairies take her away. If I had brought my pixie to this place and given thanks, would they have let my baby stay.
looking for a reason for baby's death (the fairies took her away because she did not come back to give thanks)