Leah stood there with empty arms. As usual, everyone else seemed to get what they wanted
“V’yekarei shemo b’Yisrael…” Pause. “Nechemia Baruch.”
Leah felt her grip on her daughter slacken. The energy left faster than a newborn’s cry. Faigy looked at her expectantly.
Leah recovered quickly. “What a beautiful name,” she said as her throat gave a mini retch.
She squeezed Faigy’s hand, avoided looking at her daughter’s glistening eyes; brissim are harder on the mother than the baby, she knew. The words of the siddur wiggled, waved, and danced across the page, yet Leah pretended to focus. Deep breath: It would be over in a few moments.
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