This is her third attempt at a clutch. All her previous children had coughed themselves to death. So she's clinging to the thought that maybe this time it would work, this time one would live, this time-
-there is a striped egg.
When she sees it, she screams and collapses. Her husband comes running in and understands immediately (bless him). He takes care of everything. She doesn't ask, he doesn't tell.
Maybe one of these three eggs will make it.
She doesn't think about it. She doesn't, she can't. Three eggs. She has three eggs. And no one will ever know.
Later, far away, an egg cracks open and a little baby jet girl comes tumbling out. Someone will probably know, soon.