Two Weeks After Our Baby Died, My 8-Year-Old Whispered, “Mom, She Isn’t Gone—I Saw What Daddy Did at the Hospital”

He looked at me.

“You were already bleeding.

You woke up disoriented.

You screamed.”

His voice broke.

“I thought if you saw Melanie dead, that image would replace every image of the baby you had imagined.”

I cried.

“So you gave me no image at all.”