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

Andrés became a master of calm he did not always feel. He packed snacks, water, medical files, and a tiny notebook where he wrote questions for Dr. Moncada. Abuela Teresa came every Sunday with soup. My father visited alone and always asked before touching my belly.

That question healed something.

“May I?” he would ask.

The first time, I cried.

“Yes, Papá.continue reading …