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
He kissed the top of my head and asked whether I had eaten.
“A little.”
“Ethan been keeping you company?”
“Yes.”
“He’s taking it hard.
Mother thinks counseling might help.”
Counseling might help.
That did not make Eleanor’s suggestion innocent or sinister by itself.
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