This book took quite awhile for me to get into, and the only thing that stopped me from tossing it aside is my own stubborn nature to finish whatever I start. It wasn't that the story wasn't interesting - it was actually the complete opposite in that it was riveting - it's that it was hard. It's a tough topic, for anyone, and being a mother with a son, maybe it was even more difficult. I'm not sure. I was frustrated more than once, but morbidly fascinated. I wanted to know how on earth this woman would ever come to terms with this situation. How do you ever recover from something so horrific? As I neared the end, I truly began to appreciate what Shriver labored through and by the final word, I was in awe of her totally, and completely.