My heart aches at the time I lost with him, but I push down the pain and throw myself into taking care of him first.
That means grabbing the bottle Brigitte had for him in the diaper bag, getting him out of this car, and rushing inside to warn Dima.
I push that thought from my head, too.
Carrying Lukas after so much time apart feels strange. It’s like picking up an instrument you used to play years ago. Your body remembers, but your mind is slow to catch up.
My body remembers Lukas. I know how it should feel to have him nuzzled against my chest or cradled in my arms. But my brain is telling me I don’t know how to do this. That I don’t have enough experience.
Lukas, however, seems happy to be held by me and fed his bottle at the same time. His tiny little fingers are clamped around the
