Patricia explained that she had “fixed” the room because she believed babies needed stimulation and structure. Then, through tears, she confessed she had expected a grandson, not a granddaughter, and thought she was doing us a favor by preparing us to “try again” for a boy.

Her words broke me, but Evan’s anger was fierce. He firmly told her to leave and demanded she return the spare key. That night, we searched the garage and found my mother’s blankets stuffed into a trash bag, along with other precious items Patricia had discarded.