She opened her eyes. She held up a pair of tiny, chubby hands. A woman cannot survive on Self Quarantine Crochet Shirt She looked down at her stomach pressing against the white fabric of a nightgown. She pulled back the hem of the nightgown to find a dark spot on the mattress beneath her. I wet the bed, she thought. That hadn’t happened in eleven years. Not since she was little. What’s going on here?