Two Weeks After Our Baby Died, My 8-Year-Old Whispered, “Mom, She Isn’t Gone—I Saw What Daddy Did at the Hospital”
Did laundry.
Took Toby to school.
Everyone was functioning around me.
Apparently Toby had been trying to solve death with quarters.
That realization filled me with shame.
Then I stopped.
Not yet.
Shame could wait.
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