end of the rope

So it's like this: my friend's baby is dead.
I'm angry. I'm so angry I could rip everything apart but it wouldn't change how responsible this whole community is for enabling the young woman who was to give birth to her.
Her: a daughter.
A daughter who was not breast fed not held not named not given a chance even to be spared the trauma of trying to develope with a heart full of holes.
A daughter who's mother I will never talk to again.
I can hear my father's voice ringing in my ears, singing a "never say never".
A daughter's mother who I will never look at the same way.
A daughter's mother who refused to go to the doctor until she was almost to give birth, to the baby who's heart was bleeding.
A daughter's mother who had pulled the same stunt twice before, both due to claims of ignorance.

Her belly felt like dead weight underneath the pressure of my hands, and I never in my heart believed that the baby was moving like she said. I never saw it, not like with my mj. Not a flutter, not a shift, but still and solid.
I did nothing.
I begged her to prove me wrong, I yelled at her to go to the doctor I told her to show me she'd do it. I told her I was scared one of them could die, with out knowing what was going inside her body.
There was silence on the other end. She said nothing.
I felt so strongly about it some days that it made me sick and I didn't want to see her and that belly that was growing with what seemed like no life and still I did nothing.
I want to scream. I could run 10 circuits until I puke, but nothing will ride this out, nothing can burn up this feeling, this feeling will only have it's way with me and I'll let it.
I want to get as far away from the memory of that dead weight because it screams at me, and it gets louder and louder until I think I will go mad.
What does a situation like this really tell anyone?
Am I trying to psycholanalyze, or poiliticize, am I going to try and classify this situation as the worst thing I've seen even? Am I or will I ever make excuses for her again?

Never...

Never walk through the snow just to get to your door
never talk to you about a feeling
never remind you of all the things in store
see you quiet in church, kneeling

Oh but I loved your baby girl
And I know somehow you do
not long was her stay warm in this world
for being neglected by you