I Was Told My Newborn Had Died—Then My Eight-Year-Old Son Asked Why Daddy Had Paid Aunt Rachel to Take the Crying Bundle

They helped place her in my arms.

The weight was nothing like the emptiness I had carried home from the hospital.

I bent my head.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered.

“Mommy’s here.”

The words broke halfway through.

I started again.

“I’ve got you.”