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

Everybody needs to know what you really remember.”

He traced the puppy’s ear with one finger.

“I know the coat.”

“All right.”

“And the blanket.”

I did not ask him to add another detail.

He had already spoken to the person assigned to hear his account.

Instead, I asked whether he wanted to keep the drawing or leave it there.