I thought bringing my baby home would be the beginning of something beautiful. After two exhausting days in the hospital, all I wanted was my own bed, a quiet room, and the comfort of something familiar. My body ached, my arms were sore from holding my newborn, and my mind was still trying to catch up with the fact that I was now someone’s mother.
But the moment I stepped onto the porch, something felt wrong.
The front door looked the same, the windows untouched, the potted plant I had left before going into labor still sitting by the steps. Everything was exactly how I remembered it—except for one thing.
