Sometimes an ounce of compassion feels like a waterfall
My husband Jeremy and I stood just inside the entrance of the NICU, between the front desk where we used to get our bright orange stickers, permitting our entry as proud parents of Reed Robinson, Room 363, and the washing station, where we meticulously washed away any germs that could harm him. It had been about a week since Reed took his last breath in my arms and it took …
