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rocking chair I picked for the nursery.
I called my husband, Marcus.
No answer.
I called again.
No answer.
By the fourth attempt, my thumb shook so badly I nearly dropped the phone. My daughter kicked once, hard, as if she could feel the floor disappearing beneath us.
So I called my mother.
“Mom,” I said when she answered. My voice sounded so small I barely continue reading …
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