Years, really. Years of careful hope, quiet disappointment, doctors’ offices, and conversations whispered late at night so we wouldn’t say our fears out loud. When I finally got pregnant, Ray cried harder than I did. He came to every appointment, read every book, talked to my belly like our daughter could already hear him.
For illustrative purposes only
When labor started, he never left my side. He held my hand through every contraction, whispered encouragement when I thought I couldn’t go on, kissed my forehead when our daughter finally arrived, pink and crying and perfect.
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