“What time is it?” she wonders. 3 a.m. “Why? Oh, the baby. The screaming baby.” One foot on the cold floor sends a distinct and familiar shiver up her spine. Tossing her robe on, she drifts down the hall in a fog.

She’s at the crib before she finally opens her eyes fully. Muscle memory has guided her this far. The baby isn’t crying. She reaches in to check the pacifier is in his mouth. He’s getting old enough now that he moves around in his sleep. But her stomach begins to churn like her hand now groping through the covers in the crib. Nothing. The cloud of sleep evaporating as she dashes to the light switch and smashes it on. Her eyes shut instinctively against the harsh light but she forces them open to see the room. Every bit of the room. No Eli.