But Max refused to go into the room.
For the rest of the evening, he stayed downstairs. Every time the baby cried, he covered his ears and hid behind the couch. When I tried to sit the baby next to him, he jumped away as if he were afraid of her.
I told myself he was just jealous.
Everyone had warned me that older siblings sometimes struggle when a new baby arrives. I convinced myself Max simply needed time to adjust.
But that night, shortly after 2:00 a.m., I woke to the sound of quiet sobbing in the hallway.
Max was sitting outside the nursery door with his knees pulled to his chest.
I knelt beside him.
“Sweetheart, why are you so afraid of your sister?”
He grabbed my wrist tightly.
“Because she isn’t my sister,” he repeated. “The hospital gave you the wrong baby.”
A chill ran through my body.
I tried to stay calm.
“Why do you think that?”
Max glanced toward our bedroom to make sure Daniel was still asleep.
Then he leaned close and whispered:
“When Dad took me downstairs to get some juice, I came back by myself because he was talking to someone.”
