It was almost 3 a.m.
Rain tapped softly against the nursery window while I paced the floor with a crying newborn tucked against my shoulder.
Sarah’s voice was the only thing that could calm our daughter.
I hadn’t slept for nearly 48 hours, and grief had become so heavy it almost had a sound of its own.
Ari cried harder.
« I know, baby, » I whispered. « I miss her too. »
The words escaped before I realized what I was saying.
How could a baby miss someone she’d never met?
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