I closed my eyes and pictured the bassinet next to my bed and that the crying infant was my baby
I have no idea who you are.
Living in a large apartment building with paper-thin walls and multiple open windows, it’s impossible to tell which sound is coming out of which window, so to me you’re just one of the many faces I meet in the elevator.
The first time your newborn’s cries woke me up, I raised the volume of my noisemaker and fell back asleep. The next night I grumbled as I tried some other slumber attempts. It didn’t take long for me to realize that your little one was here to stay and that I had to learn to live with his midnight wailing.
It happened one night after we had failed a treatment cycle and silently went to bed to face our nightmares and shattered dreams.
And then your baby started crying.
My first instinct was to cry along with him. The darkness of night, the darkness of our situation, harmonized by a piercing cry, was the perfect setting for our bitter tears.
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