My husband appeared on the baby monitor every night at 2 a.m. carrying a mysterious paper bag—when I finally watched him open it, I gasped

reach for herself.”

The truth hit me so suddenly that I nearly dropped the notebook.

It was written for Noah.

Every entry was for him.

I continued reading, stunned and ashamed.

“This is the night I drank from one of those awful tiny bottles because I thought maybe it would make me sleep,” he wrote. “It didn’t. So I am writing this down instead because maybe continue reading …