And I also know that by 2:42 a.m. when all has been restored and babies are sleeping again and the window is cracked open for a bit of fresh air, when we are
back in our bed and quietly groaning at how over-the-puking-thing we both are by now, it's then, when he reaches out for me and moves the hair
back off my neck before resting his calloused hands on the baby still growing within me, when the baby
rolls up against his palm, and he whispers, «hey, you» quietly, it's in that moment that I think the
love we make or find or reimagine at the unexpected moments is still the sweetest.