“I do.”
“Because Leo has Down syndrome?”
She said nothing.
Her silence became the answer I carried for the next 18 years.
Within a week, she signed an agreement giving me sole custody.
She declined visitation, packed one suitcase, and left our apartment.
Before she walked out, she stood beside Leo’s crib.
I watched from the doorway.
For one second, I thought she might pick him up.
Instead, she whispered something I could not hear, pressed her fingers to her lips, and left.
Just like that.
I failed to convince her to stay.
I saw that she genuinely wanted nothing to do with our baby and me anymore.
I was 30 years old, standing in our apartment with a newborn in my arms, wondering how someone could stop loving her own child.
For years, I hated her.
I hated her during every doctor’s appointment.
I hated her when Leo needed surgery for one thing or another.
