Instead of having a boy zipping around outside on his Razor Scooter he won at his boy's club, or running up occasionally to my room for smooches, he could have ended up as a pile of components in scarlet ichor, in a stainless steel sink in an abattoir somewhere. Yes, the wife and I would have been denied some of the hardest, most gut-wrenching years of our lives. But Nat wouldn't have a big brother to play Sorry with, and a buddy to help her make forts in the living room.
If a child dies after birth, it is a tragedy. If it is torn from the womb and killed, well...
That's just murder.