Andrew glanced toward the bassinet, where my daughter slept, her tiny fist curled against the blanket.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked.

It was a fair question, and a kind one; Andrew had known me for years, and he knew that this was my home, the one I had chosen and paid for and decorated, and he wanted to be certain I was not making, in the rawest and most exhausted days of my life, a decision I would regret.

I looked at my daughter’s tiny fingers curled against the blanket.