“Touché, Ronan and Mom.” I’d shaken my head. “Touché.”

Now, I had a son. Someone to love. To write letters to. To see grow.

I watched Chase pick him up, all bundled up like a burrito, with his little stripy hat. My husband smiled down at him, and my heart swelled.

“How I got her to say yes to me? Why, yes, Ronan, that’s a funny story. Let me tell you all about it . . .”