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
Eleanor visited with soup and practical suggestions.
She straightened a cushion, asked about my follow-up, and told Ethan he could come to her whenever he needed to talk.
He shook his head.
I thought he wanted to remain near me.
She said he was being stubborn, then softened the word into tired.
I remember asking her to give him time.
“Everyone needs time,” she said.
At that point, I believed we meant the same thing.