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

me when the panic becomes loud. Sometimes we sit together on the nursery floor while Noah sleeps in his crib and talk about how close we came to losing each other during those first months of parenthood.

A few weeks ago, I found Ethan writing in the notebook again.

I smiled.

“Still documenting our collapse?”

He looked up and continue reading …