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

knowing what to call it.

Together, we threw away the mini bottles.

He kept the notebook.

At first, I was uncertain how I felt about that. It seemed too personal and raw.

Then, when Noah was six months old and finally able to nap without waking every few minutes, Ethan handed it to me.

“You can read the rest of it,” he said. “If you want.”

By the time I finished,continue reading …