of spina bifida, shoved the baby back into my arms, and walked out of the room, turning his back on us and heading straight for the exit. I was still hooked up to monitors, completely exhausted, trying to hold the newborn while my sister-in-law spiraled into a full-blown panic attack.
For the next three days, I was furious. I took the baby home and tried to calm Melissa down, convinced that my brother was just a heartless coward who couldn’t handle a medical challenge.
But when Ryan showed up at my kitchen door three days later, looking like he was walking to his own execution, I didn’t hesitate to give him a piece of my mind. And what he told me had nothing to do with our baby’s back. It was something infinitely worse.
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It turned out that around the time the first trimester came around, Ryan was fired
