“We will not recognize a fatherless baby as part of this family.”

My father, Thomas, remained beside her in his charcoal suit, his expression cold and unreadable.

“And we will never hold him.” The only sound in the room was the steady rhythm of the medical monitor.

I looked down at my son, Noah, sleeping peacefully against my chest, his tiny hand curled tight around my finger.

And I did not feel broken.

I felt completely, serenely certain.