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I used to think it must be my fault.
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My own child, who lived inside me for nine months,
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someone I nursed and bathed and held and sang lullabies to.
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I have two other children, Sister,
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both of them perfectly normal.
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She sounds like quite a handful, Mrs. Reynolds,
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but we do not have a children's ward here.
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Oh, but she's more than a child, Sister.
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In fact, that's the problem.
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She's always seemed like an adult.
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Do you know that she's never cried?
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Not once, not even when she was a little baby.