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

I loved him differently than before.

I loved his honesty and vulnerability.

Noah is eleven months old now.

He sleeps through most nights, which still feels strange.

I am better. I eat, shower, and laugh without immediately feeling guilty. Some days remain difficult, but they no longer feel endless.

Sometimes Ethan still wakes at 2 a.m., but now he tells continue reading …