Hal and I were at the social services office. In Duluth. The lawyers had us meet there as a neutral place. Little Elizabeth was in a crib, wrapped up tight and alone. Neither of us was bold enough to touch her in front of the caseworkers. We were being observed. I feared I’d make her cry. I wanted so badly to pick her up and hold her close. This was what I’d been waiting for, but I stood stiff, in shock. Like rushing to an old boyfriend, then stopping short, seeing him married to someone else.

I remembered our baby being smaller, redder, more wrinkled. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been brand-new. She’d been a creature wholly dependent on us, wholly vulnerable. Her alien eyes had been closed, straining to open. Nothing was to scale. The head and big tummy but miniature bottom, slight shoulders. Petite limbs tucked in, creased skin. That first day, I’d stretched out her bent arms like little bat wings. I’d unfolded her accordion legs, and when I’d let go, they’d folded back into her body, mechanically, as if some part of her knew she might return to the womb.

Who was she, then, when she was mine? It seemed absurd that so much could have changed. That this particular coldness had descended. Perhaps I’d missed some window. I’d had my chance to be her mother, and who was I now? All I had to do was pick her up. Was that it? Was that how it would be?

I looked at Hal, but he wasn’t there. He’d taken a detour. He was in his own mind, his list of what-ifs, and he was dwelling on versions of failure. He was dark and gray. Nothing took front seat to the tragedy with Jake’s legs. Not this baby, not me, not anyone. Maybe he didn’t want her anymore. Maybe he never had. Had he done it all for me? Or did he have a sense, even then, that she wasn’t really ours, was never meant to be our child? Maybe he’d come back and claim her someday in the future, and we’d become who we planned to be. But for now, and for weeks, he had been elsewhere, and I was alone. With her.

Raymond had gone back to California to be with Mom, and I’d already booked my flight to visit them. Before he left Minnesota, I’d thanked Raymond so many times and so profusely that he couldn’t stand it anymore. He finally asked me to stop thanking him and instead come visit. He was right. I planned to see them both on a regular basis. I couldn’t have asked for a better brother, and I promised I’d be there for him in the way he’d been here for me.