Two Weeks After Our Baby Died, My 8-Year-Old Whispered, “Mom, She Isn’t Gone—I Saw What Daddy Did at the Hospital”
That matters.
Lucas was there.
He said her name.
Touched her hair.
Held her against his chest.
Told her he loved her.
When my mind tries to turn the hospital night into only betrayal, I remember that too.
Both.
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