There is a little girl named Layla Grace who died yesterday. She had cancer, and I followed this 2-year-old's downward spiral from the time she was diagnosed with neuroblastoma 10 months ago.

Layla Grace was not my neighbor. She was not my child's nursery-school classmate nor the daughter of a friend. She was not a member of my church or even a resident of my community. I do not know Layla Grace -- or her parents -- but her passing weighs on my mind nonetheless.

I know Layla Grace through Twitter. The child's parents were tweeting and continue to tweet about their loss, and blog about it as well. Some say using social media to reach out to other moms and dads during times of tragedy is a way to connect us all, across the usual dividing lines of race, class, gender, sexual orientation and geography.

I used to think so, too.



In fact, I wrote a piece on the topic last year, after a California couple shared their grief at the passing of their 17-month-old daughter and Twitter mobilized around them. They had been raising money for the March of Dimes at the time of the child's death -- she was born 11 weeks premature -- and by the time #Maddie was trending, which is the way you find a topic on Twitter, they raised more than $100,000 through donations from, literally, virtual strangers.
At the time, I called Twitter the modern version of a back porch, where friends and community members gathered with casseroles and comfort when tragedy struck. I believed that then, and in Maddie's case, it is still an accurate metaphor.

Now I wonder just how much tragedy we can absorb before we are immune to it. Layla Grace's journey to death, and her parents' overwhelming grief, is almost unreal. It feels like a play, or a TV movie of the week. My fear is that we will cross the line from compassion to consumption.



Layla Grace's dire condition attracted the attention of celebrities like Ryan Seacrest, Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian, all of whom helped the 2-year-old's mom in her effort to raise awareness of the child's condition -- stage four neuroblastoma, a cancer that is common in infancy and childhood. Their involvement in the story made it ever more surreal, and more and more like the plight of a fictional character.

I fear we are in danger of grief and loss becoming so abstract that it seems more like entertainment than tragedy. While there's no doubt that most people who reach out to families in need are genuine in their empathy and compassion, there is another side to that coin. In a sickening way, it feels almost trendy to glom on to what were once the intimate moments of tragedy borne only by families and their closest friends.That is one trend I will let pass me by.

I can't judge the parents of these children for needing to share their sadness. I cannot and will not pretend to understand the heart and mind of someone whose child has died or is dying. That is not my right.



Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe tweeting our family tragedies is the new normal, the Web 2.0 version of gathering around those who are suffering. What I do know is that I need to turn away from the screen when I see this kind of pain and agony scrolling by. Not because my heart is hardened, but because I fear it may become so.

Heidi's oldest child was just 15 months old when she started exhibiting aggressive behavior. She hit, she bit, she pulled other kids' hair -- and Heidi was at a loss as to how to cope.

"My daughter was mean," recalls the New Jersey mom of three.

And with that realization came with a flood of emotions -- confusion, embarrassment, and even shame.

"I was a teacher and a nanny before I had kids, so I thought I had it all figured out. I was ... embarrassed of my daughter, and I definitely felt shame. Here I was this teacher, this nanny with years of experience, and I couldn't even control my 15-month-old."

We hear so often about the victims of bullies, the kids who suffer at the hands of tiny tyrants or teen queens. The media covers the sensational cases, like that of Phoebe Prince, the 15-year-old South Hadley, Mass. student who took her own life after she was taunted mercilessly on Facebook.

But what about your average, garden-variety bully? And what about their parents? For Heidi, living with the knowledge that her child took pleasure in victimizing others was incredibly stressful.

A couple won permission from the Australian courts to go ahead with a planned hysterectomy for their 11-year-old daughter, whose medical condition causes her to have epileptic seizures when she menstruates. The ruling has sparked a nationwide debate there over the rights of children with disabilities.

The child, known only as Angela, has a condition called Rett Syndrome, according to ABC News Online. The disease is profoundly disabling and has left her without the ability to communicate; she is also unable to feed herself or walk without assistance.

While Angela's seizures are controlled by medication, they worsen when the girl has a heavy menstrual period, which, for her, began at the age of 9. Experts recommended to her parents in March 2009 that the girl undergo a hysterectomy, but the health provider would not perform the surgery without a court order because of the irreversible nature of the procedure.

It was a very bad day, indeed, for Carmela Khury when she was called for jury duty in a Michigan murder case: Her mother, who was watching her two kids, had to have emergency oral surgery. Then, her backup child care fell through.

Khury called the office of Oakland County Circuit Court Judge Leo Bowman, according to The New York Times, and explained her predicament. Still, she was ordered to show up for jury selection at 9 a.m. and was warned that if she didn't, she could be arrested. So Khury gathered up her 8-month-old son and 3-year-old daughter and took them with her.

She showed up at 9:25 a.m. with her children in tow, and she was excused from her duties. But things didn't end there: Bowman ordered her to sit through every day of the trial as an observer. Additionally, Bowman sentenced her to 24 hours in jail for contempt of court after the trial ended.

Nujood Ali walked into a Yemeni courtroom and asked to see a judge, because she wanted a divorce. This may seem like a common tale of marital dissolution, but Nujood Ali was just 10 years old when she defied the cultural traditions and walked out on the husband who was more than 20 years her senior.

Nujood, now 12, chronicles her journey from child bride to celebrated hero in her new autobiography, "I Am Nujood, Age 10 and Divorced." Ghostwritten by French newspaper reporter Delphine Minoui, the book details how the young girl shocked citizens of her native Yemen after she walked out on her arranged marriage to a motorcycle delivery man. Nujood's father married her off to the man for a dowry of $250, and for two months she begged her husband every day to return her to her family.

He refused, and so Nujood decided to take action. One afternoon, when her mother sent her on an errand, Nujood took a bus into the crowded capital city of Sanaa. She then hailed a taxi to the courthouse. Not knowing what else to do, she sat on a bench outside a courtroom all day, until a judge noticed her lingering in the empty hallway. He asked what she needed, and the girl said simply, "I came for a divorce."

There may be no greater pain than watching your child struggle with an agonizing, terminal illness. And that's why some parents of dying children may consider asking their doctors to hasten the end of their child's life.

According to Time magazine, a new study out of the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston reveals that of 141 parents whose children died from pediatric cancer, 34 percent of parents said that in hindsight, they would have contemplated hastening the end of their child's life. However, only 13 parents admitted to having the conversation with a physician.

The results are an indication that caregivers and parents are at a loss when it comes to developing a palliative care plan for children who suffer from terminal illnesses. Parents are naturally inclined to believe their kids still have a chance to fight their diseases, and many childhood cancers still have an uncertain prognosis. Those two factors can combine to create an environment in which end-of-life care is delayed.

A 2008 study conducted at the University of California, San Francisco, Children's Hospital states that many are hesitant to have these hard conversations, Time reports.

An Iowa shop teacher who refused to allow a student to build a Wiccan altar in class has been placed on leave in a flap over religious freedom of expression.

Dale Halferty, who has taught industrial arts at Guthrie Center High School in Guthrie, Iowa, for three years, admits he forbade the student to construct an altar dedicated to the religion as part of a class assignment, The Des Moines Register reports.

Wicca is known as the modern form of witchcraft and typically involves the worship of multiple gods.

A 20-year veteran of the classroom, Halferty asserts that he was well within his rights to prevent the teen from building the structure, which he says poses a threat to the separation of church and state. He previously prevented another student from building a cross in the class.

"... This kid was practicing his religion during class time, and I don't agree," Halferty tells the Register. "I don't want any religious symbols in the shop. We as Christians don't get to have our say during school time, so why should he?"

Family income, cultural customs and beliefs are all factors that put minority kids at risk for obesity -- before they even leave the womb.

According to the Associated Press, researchers looked at more than a dozen circumstances that can increase the chance of obesity and found that almost every one was more prevalent among black and Hispanic children than in their white peers.

Contributing factors besides income and culture include: sleep habits in infants, moms who smoked while pregnant, unusual and rapid weight gain in babies, starting solid food before the age of 4 months, letting very young children have fast food, sugar-laden beverages and/or a TV in their bedrooms.

Your 14-year-old is ready to have a baby. So says award-winning British novelist Hilary Mantel, who caused a ruckus when she said the age at which women have children is dictated by men.

The London Telegraph reports that the hubbub erupted after an interview in Stella, the newspaper's weekend style magazine, in which Mantel, 57, discusses the natural instincts that drive procreation and says she was competent enough at age 14 to run a household.

"Having sex and having babies is what young women are about, and their instincts are suppressed in the interests of society's timetable," she tells Stella. "I think it is that men's lives have set the timetable. Men reach a sort of sexual peak when you are 20, a social peak when you are 40. There is this breed of women for whom society's timetable is completely wrong."