The First Uniform He Ever Wore

“Your son will always need help.”

I remember how calm his voice was.

Not cruel.

Not kind.

Just final.

I was twenty-four years old, sitting in a plastic chair that smelled faintly of disinfectant and old paper, holding a newborn wrapped in a blanket that kept slipping off his shoulder.

Adam slept like nothing in the world could touch him.

Like the words being said in front of him belonged to someone else.