mY husband sat on the edge of the hospital bed.
He looked thinner.
His hair was shorter.
There were shadows beneath his eyes.
Beside the bed stood a wheelchair.
But he wasn’t looking at me anymore.
He was staring at the stroller.
One daughter slept with her mouth open.
The other had a fist pressed against her cheek.
Jeremy covered his mouth.
“They’re real.”
His voice broke.
“They’re really here.”
He reached toward the stroller.
Then looked down at his legs.
His hand fell back onto the blanket.
I saw him trying to smile.
Trying to be the man he’d promised himself he would be when he finally met them.
One of our daughters stirred.
Jeremy looked up immediately.
“Was that her?”
I nodded.
“She does that when she’s waking up.”
He smiled through his tears.
“I don’t even know that about my own daughter.”
