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

“What do you mean?”

“Everybody was whispering before.”

I looked at him.

“We can speak normally.

If there are conversations you don’t need to hear, we’ll have them somewhere else.

We won’t make you guess what you did wrong.”

He nodded.

A door closed in the hallway, and he glanced toward it.