Ryan stood behind her, staring at the baby as if he were looking at something a hundred miles away.
I want to back up because you need to understand what this meant to us before I tell you what happened next.
I’m 36, a single mom. My son Gabriel is seven, and he’s the loudest, kindest little human I’ve ever met.
It’s been him and me since he was two.
He’s the loudest.
Ryan is my twin. Not just my brother, but my best friend. He’d always supported me, always been there for me. My brother was the one who slept on my couch for a month after our parents died in a car accident five years ago because I couldn’t be in my apartment alone.
He and his wife, Melissa, had been trying for a baby for six years. Two rounds of IVF. One loss at 11 weeks that I don’t think my sister-in-law (SIL) ever fully came back from.
