For a few seconds after my mother said she could not congratulate me for “defying God’s will,” no one moved.

one who made cinnamon hot chocolate when I was sick. The one who laughed when my father sang badly. But grief is cruelest when the person is still alive. You mourn someone who keeps calling.

At sixteen weeks, we learned the baby was a girl.

A daughter.

I laughed and cried at the same time while Andrés kissed my forehead. “A girl,” he whispered. “We’re continue reading …