Two Weeks After Our Baby Died, My 8-Year-Old Whispered, “Mom, She Isn’t Gone—I Saw What Daddy Did at the Hospital”
“I know.”
“He helped me because I was facing eviction.”
“I know.”
“And Clara was with me because I couldn’t leave her.”
“I know.”
She stared.
“What don’t you know?”
I looked at her.
