TWENTY-FOUR
ALI'S MOMENT
After Colby was born, Sonja and I had found that the dynamics of taking the
kids with us everywhere had changed. Now we were outnumbered three to
two. We decided the time had come for a regular babysitter, so we hired a
very mature, responsible eighth grader named Ali Titus to watch the kids
for us. On Monday nights, Sonja and I still played coed softball on our “old
people’s” team, though my sliding days were over.
One Monday evening in 2005, Ali came over to babysit Cassie, Colton,
and Colby so we could go to our game. It was around 10 p.m. when we
pulled back into the driveway. Sonja got out and went inside to check on
Ali and the kids while I shut the garage down for the night, so I didn’t hear
what happened inside until a few minutes after the fact.
The interior garage door leads into our kitchen, and when she walked in,
Sonja later told me, she found Ali at the sink, washing up the supper
dishes... and crying.
“Ali, what’s wrong?” Sonja said. Was it something with Ali, or something
that had happened with the kids?
Ali pulled her hands from the dishwater and dried them on a towel.
“Um... I really don’t know how to say this, Mrs. Burpo,” she began. She
looked down at the floor, hesitating.
“It’s okay, Ali,” Sonja said. “What is it?”
Ali looked up, eyes full of tears. “Well, I’m sorry to ask you this, but...
did you have a miscarriage?”
“Yes, I did,” Sonja said, surprised. “How did you know that?”
“Um... Colton and I had a little talk.”
Sonja invited Ali to sit on the couch with her and tell her what happened.
“It started after I put Colby and Colton to bed,” Ali began. Cassie had
gone downstairs to her room, and Ali had given Colby a bottle and then put
him down in his crib upstairs. Then she headed down the hall, tucked
Colton into his bed, and came out to the kitchen to clean up from the