the closed nursery door six times before forcing myself to open it.
I stepped inside quietly and leaned against the nursing recliner I had bought for Noah.
“You’re never coming home,” I whispered to the empty room. “I’ll never get to be your mom, but I saw another baby today who might need your things. I want to help them… I hope you won’t mind.”
The mobile above his crib moved slightly.
I began packing.
The boxed stroller went into my car.
I filled bags with the giraffe blanket, diapers,
