(Warning: this very well might make you cry.)
I just got word this evening (from Matt's mom) that one of Rosie's babies died today -- the little darker grey tabby (pictured below, while still alive a few days ago).
We don't know what was wrong, but we did notice a few days ago that this kitten seemed to be nursing less than the others, wasn't as round in the belly, and was sort of sitting apart from the rest of the family more often than the other kittens were. It is just so hard to tell, when kittens are this young, whether how they're acting is due to being ill or due to just random variation.
But in any case, gah, it is very saddening that this little one didn't make it.
When I heard the news I immediately went and found my (rapidly growing-up) kittens and gave them scritches and told them how glad I was that they'd all survived those perilous first few weeks of infancy.
So, yeah, not exactly the happiest evening ever. Two weeks of life spent snuggled up with Mom and siblings in a nice warm, dry nest is better than no life at all, but still. Kittens have it tough in the beginning, being as tiny and vulnerable as they are, and anyone involved in any degree or type of cat rescue is going to experience the loss of some, but that doesn't make it any easier when it does happen (nor should it).
Rest in peace, little one. I am so sorry you never got to explore much of the amazing world you were born into.