Pregnant and abandoned, Megan slept in her car aft…

moved inside me for the first time. A small, definitive flutter, like a hand knocking on a door.

I’m here, she said in the language of the not-yet-born.

I know, I said back.

So am I.

Her name is Ellie.

Born on a Tuesday in July, seven pounds, four ounces, with her father’s dark eyes and, everyone agrees, my stubbornness.

She’s eight months old as I write continue reading …