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Aria

The next morning I wake up to the gentle cries of the baby. I sit up, looking over at him. I must have dozed off. He lays inside a clothes basket padded with blankets and stares up at me. He is swaddled in an old t-shirt of mine that is soft from years of use, because I had nothing for him to wear. One of Maddy's old shirt is tucked around his bottom as a make shift diaper. He has gone through three shirt diapers and two blankets in the barely two hours I have been home with him.

I have to go to the store today and get supplies for the baby. First, though,

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