Why am I even buying a baby sweater when the prognosis is so grim?
I hold the little sweater up to the light. The sleeves unfold and gently swing across my face. It feels almost like a caress, which is weird because I’m nothing if not a realist. It’s only a sweater after all.
And yet, there’s no denying it — it smells heavenly. Maybe it is.
Tiny buttons, the softest knit, and a small tassel on the hood, nodding to classic style. This little piece of beauty captured my eye right after a little thump-thump on the screen stole our hearts.
I didn’t know much then. There was no telling how our story would end. I knew I was carrying someone special and deeply loved. And I needed to know, needed to feel, that this tiny thing truly existed.
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