The rest of my pregnancy progressed without issues, and one late June morning I awoke from a nap with a start. I hollered for Jack, and he was down the stairs faster than greased lightning and had me in the car almost before I could take another breath. By 11:46 that evening, we had a daughter.

As I held this miracle in my arms, a feeling of unworthiness swept through me, and I contemplated how far I had come and what God had done in me and through me and around me. I was humbled beyond words, imagining myself prostrate before the throne of heaven, thanking God with words my human mind could not know. I floated through the next six months on this cloud of awe, feeling as though God Himself had borne me up into His arms and carried me through them, infusing me with strength and perseverance.

Life truly did seem perfect.

How was I to know how quickly it would all come tumbling down?

Bree seems to know instinctively when she is being discussed. She appears from nowhere, having been playing In the other room for the past hour, the minute Grace begins talking about her pregnancy. “She either has the hearing of a hawk or ESP; we haven’t figured out which one” Grace jokes. Oblivious, Bree crawls up onto Graces lap. “Tell me more about when I was a baby,” she coos.

“Not now, doll, a little later, okay? Your bedtime story.”

She considers pouting, but then changes her mind. “Juice please?”

Grace smiles at me. “Excuse me,” she says with a grin before taking her daughter by the hand and heading for the kitchen. Jack watches them go, a smile slowly replacing the dull look of preoccupation he has worn for the past twenty minutes.

He’s been getting worse. Had we not been so far into the process, I don’t think I could have continued these last few weeks. It’s truly horrible watching someone’s body slowly deteriorate while their mind is still so sharp.

“Guess I’ll pick up the thread,” he offers, shifting slowly in the armchair he spends most of his days in.

“Only if you’re up to it,” I remind him. I’m terrified he’ll suddenly keel over in the middle of my interview. I hate it when Grace leaves us alone; I wouldn’t know what to do if something happened. I hope she gets back soon.

Jack gazes out the window for a minute, and I begin to think he may be zoning out. He does this a lot these days too: staring out Into space, not talking, not reacting, while Grace and I talk. Then out of nowhere he’ll make a comment, and you realize he’s been listening all along. I watch him closely, and then, without turning his gaze from the window, he begins to speak.

JACK

HELL BEGAN WITH A COLD that wouldn’t go away.