He had loved the baby we imagined.
The perfect baby.
The easy baby.
The baby who would make people smile and say congratulations.
But the child who had actually been born?
He had already rejected him.
I felt my knees weaken.
For a second, I almost hated myself too much to move.
Because what kind of mother signs papers to leave her newborn?
What kind of mother lets fear win?
Then, in my mind, I felt it again.
That tiny hand around my finger.
Not strong.
Not demanding.
Just holding on.
As if my son had already forgiven me before I even knew how badly I had failed him.
I handed the car seat to the nurse.
“Take me back.”
Brian grabbed my arm.
“You don’t understand what you’re choosing.”
I pulled my arm away.
For the first time since the delivery room, I looked at him without needing his approval.
