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
Then she held the bundle.”
“What could you see?”
“The blanket.”
I kept quiet.
“The pink one with the little stars.
Yours.”
I had spent three months making that blanket.
The small stars had been added carefully along the edge, one at a time.
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