Held her hand.
When the surgeon came out to speak with them, they stood together.
Not healed.
Not perfect.
Together.
Noah came with me that afternoon.
He loved his cousin immediately.
He was fascinated by her tiny socks and confused by how much newborns slept.
Later, as we walked through the hospital parking garage, he asked:
“Uncle Ethan was scared when she was born?”
I looked at him.
“Very.”
“Is that why he left?”
Children ask questions adults spend entire lifetimes avoiding.
“Yes.”
“Was that bad?”
“Yes.”
“Does that mean he’s bad?”
I thought.
“No.”
“It means he did something very bad.”
“That’s different.”
Noah nodded.
Then:
“Did he fix it?”
I smiled sadly.
