But as I lifted his limp body to carry him to the bedroom, something broke within me. Tears came fast, and a feeling pressed hard into my chest, a feeling only partially captured by words: my son, my son.
Forcing another to do the right thing can never be right. Blinded by stubborn determination to help my child, I'd hurt him instead.
I laid Thomas on my bed, then walked straight to the garage for the sack of bottles. As I filled one to the top with milk, Reed looked at me in question. “This was crazy,” I said, crying hard. “Crazy.”
Reed nodded, and smiled, and followed me to the bedroom. When we entered, Thomas slowly lifted his head. With glazed eyes, he looked at the bottle in my hand, then looked at our faces, and all three of us laughed.
Kathryn Lynard Soper is the author of the memoir "The Year My Son and I Were Born" and the editor-in-chief of "Segullah," a journal of literary and visual art by and for Mormon women.
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