The author and Cedar on their honeymoon.
Before we became caregivers, my husband, Cedar, and I had sun-kissed skin and lazed around on a Saturday in our pajamas until noon (if we even wore pajamas). I remember waking up next to him with the whole weekend in front of us like a vacation. Back then, we didn’t have a dishwasher or a television. Or children. And we didn’t yet have a daughter who requires round-the-clock care.
Our 9-year-old was born with a genetic deletion so rare it has no name...