For the past two hours, I’ve moved methodically through the nursery. Every tiny outfit is folded with precision, blankets stacked neatly, and plush toys arranged just so. I take extra care with the labels, lining the books on the shelves by size and theme, making sure everything will be easy to find once our daughter arrives.
Every now and then, I pause, brushing a hand over a soft onesie and imagining the little hands that’ll wear it. Not that I say it out loud. Kyra’s asleep, and honestly, I’m not sure I’d know how to put it into words anyway. A quiet smile tugs at my lips as I keep working. Every small movement feels deliberate, another way of getting ready for her.
After double-checking the drawers, I step back and survey the room. Everything is in place. The crib sheets are smooth,
