ELENA'S POINT OF VIEW
Five days. Grace was five days old and already I couldn't remember life before her. Every sound she made, every tiny movement, every breath. I was completely obsessed.
"I want to take her to see Dad today," I said, watching Alex fold another impossibly small onesie.
He looked up from the laundry. "Are you sure you're up for it? You just gave birth."
"I'm fine. A little sore, but fine." I touched Grace's tiny hand as she slept in the bassinet. "I need him to meet her. Really meet her."
"Elena, he's still..."
"I know. But maybe hearing about Grace will help. Maybe it'll give him a reason to wake up."
Alex studied my face for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay. But if you get tired, we're coming straight home."
"Deal."
Getting ready took forever. Grace needed to be changed and fed. I needed to find clothes that actually fit my postpartum body. The diaper bag had to be packed with a million things for one tiny human.
