The thermometer read 102°F. My vision was swimming, my chest felt like it was filled with jagged glass, and in my arms, Leo—our six-month-old—was screaming with the kind of primal intensity that only a teething, hungry infant can manage.
I looked at Mark, pleading. “Please,” I whispered. “I can’t breathe, let alone stand. I need you to take him.” Mark didn’t reach for the baby. He reached for his …
The thermometer read 102°F. My vision was swimming, my chest felt like it was filled with jagged glass, and in my arms, Leo—our six-month-old—was screaming with the kind of primal intensity that only a teething, hungry infant can manage. Read More