When I woke, Ryan looked exhausted—his face drawn, eyes red, as if he’d aged ten years overnight. “She’s here,” he whispered. “She’s perfect.” A nurse placed Lily in my arms: seven pounds, two ounces, impossibly whole. I asked if he wanted to hold her. He nodded, cradled her gently, and then something in his expression shifted—joy flickered into something darker. He handed her back too quickly. “She’s beautiful,” he said, but the warmth wasn’t there.Continue reading…
