On our wedding day, he stood at the altar and said, "Ellie Pruitt, it took me eight years to get from matching hoodies to matching rings. The next eight years, I'm giving you a home."
The room erupted in applause.
I cried so hard my makeup ran.
When I got pregnant, he was more nervous than I was.
He stared at those two lines on the test for three solid seconds, then swept me off my feet and spun me around twice.
"I'm going to be a dad!"
He shouted it loud enough for the entire building to hear.
Through the whole pregnancy, he woke up early every morning to take my temperature and make breakfast. Never missed a single checkup.
He even bought a parenting book and read it so many times the pages curled at the corners.
On the inside cover, he'd written: For our little Beanie... Mommy and Daddy are waiting for you to come home.
Beanie.
That was the nickname we'd picked for our baby.
Beanie never came home.
I lost so much blood that I was unconscious for three days.
When I came to, David was sitting at the edge of my hospital bed. His eyes were rimmed red.
"Where's the baby?"
He didn't answer.
"David, where's the baby?!"
He pulled me into his arms, his voice trembling.
"Ellie, please don't be upset..."