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

Mark encouraged me not to go into the nursery.

“Not yet,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that to yourself.”

It sounded kind.

So did much of what he said during those days.

Ethan became unusually quiet.

I assumed he was grieving in his own way.

He stopped giving the puppy a voice and left it beside his pillow.