Yes I know I have a million unfinished projects, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone. And who am I to tell an idea no? I'm gonna really try to keep up with this multichapter, and hopefully HOPEFULLY finish it!

PS- the book Goodnight Moon is a classic and obviously not mine, but I feel like I should still say it's not mine. It was written by Margaret Wise Brown.

...

APRIL

I'm just about to jump in the shower when I hear the faint sound of Ramona fussing and Jackson trying (and failing) to console her. I listen for a few more minutes, hoping she'll calm down, but the whining only continues. So, I throw on a towel and head down the hall towards the warm yellow light of our daughter's bedroom.

"What's going on in here?" I ask lightly, peering around the corner.

I see Ramona in bed, glasses still on, pink bonnet over her curls. The covers are bunched at the end of her bed and her thumb is in her mouth, cheeks wet with tears. Jackson looks to me, the expression on his face equally as hopeless as Ramona's.

"Want Mommy," she mutters through her thumb.

"Okay," I say softly, reaching to adjust the covers. "Let's get you tucked in. It's time for little girls to be in bed! It's late."

"Bookie," she says.

"I think Daddy should read tonight," I say, sitting next to Jackson on the bed. "How about it?"

"No," she says.

"So mean to Daddy," Jackson says. He's joking, but I hear the soft twinge of hurt in his voice. He'd claim it's not there if I were to bring it up, and I've learned by now that it's best to leave it alone. Ramona has to grow out of this Mommy-centric phase eventually.

"Mommy can do it," Ramona says, opening the book and setting it in my hands. "Read to me, Mommy?"

"Okay," I say, leaning in and crossing my legs to stay decent. "In the great green room," I begin. "There was a telephone, and a red balloon."

"Big balloon."

"And a picture of the cow jumping over the moon."

"Can cows reach the moon?" Jackson asks, holding Ramona's little hand.

She smirks and shakes her head, saying, "No…"

"And there were three little bears sitting on chairs," I say, turning the page.

"Goldilocks."

"And two little kittens. And a pair of mittens!"

Jackson and Ramona rub their hands together - what they always do when we read about the mittens.

"And a little toy house, and a young mouse."

"Squeak! Squeak!" Ramona peeps.

I nod, continuing to read. "And a comb, and a brush, and a bowl full of mush."

"Yucky."

"And a quiet old lady whispering…"

I widen my eyes and we all say at once: "Hush!"

"Goodnight room," I say, looking around Ramona's light pink bedroom. We haven't changed the color since I was six months pregnant, when we painted. "Goodnight moon. Goodnight cow jumping over the moon."

I look at my daughter, who has her free hand tucked inside Jackson's. The other hand she uses to suck her thumb.

"Goodnight light, and the red balloon. Goodnight bears, goodnight chairs. Goodnight kittens, and goodnight mittens. Goodnight clocks, and goodnight socks. Goodnight little house, and goodnight mouse. Goodnight comb, and goodnight brush. Goodnight nobody," I say. "Goodnight mush."

Jackson pipes in with a whisper. "Goodnight to the old lady whispering 'hush!'"

"Goodnight stars. Goodnight air," I continue, almost done. "Goodnight noises everywhere."

Ramona's eyelids are heavy, and I watch them slowly close. I smile to myself, gently take off her glasses to set them on the nightstand, and kiss her round cheek.

"Goodnight, little Moon," I whisper. "We love you so much."

Jackson kisses the hand he'd been holding and carefully rests it on the bed, then makes sure her covers are tucked high enough. Once she's all settled, I shut off the overhead light, leave her door open a crack, and let out a long breath.

I can't stay away from the subject. I know I should, but something in me has to bring it up. "It's nothing against you, you know," I tell him, heading back into the bathroom to resume my shower routine.

He follows me and says, "I know."

"I just don't want your feelings to be hurt. You know, when she asks for me. I saw your face."

"It was just my face," he says, eyeing my body as I drop my towel and reach to feel the water's temperature.

"Okay," I say, thoroughly not believing him. "And when she gets older, you guys will have more-"

"April, honestly, it was just my face," he says in a clipped tone, a tone that lets me know I need to drop it. So, I do.

"Okay," I say again, and climb inside the shower. I lean my head back and let the water run over my hair and down my back, releasing tension from my shoulders and everywhere else I was holding it.

Jackson must hear me sighing because he asks, "Long day?"

I cover my face with my hands and scrub up and down, pushing hair off my forehead. "It was fine," I say. "But yes. Long."

"What did you guys get up to?"

"It rained all day. We didn't get a chance to go outside, and you know how much she hates that. It made the day feel so long, and she wouldn't nap. I tried to lay down with her, but she was uncomfortable. Nothing helped. It upset me, and you know, she's so intuitive… I wanted to cry, and she wanted to cry… yeah, it was just a long day."

"Hopefully tomorrow will be better."

"It's supposed to be sunny," I say. "So, that should help."

"She can get all that energy out," he says, and I hear the grin in his voice.

"How was yours?" I ask, returning the question while I squirt shampoo into my open palm.

"Spent most of it sitting around, so I know exactly how Moon felt."

"Both of you," I say with a smile. "Always go, go, go."

"There was a fire in an apartment complex Near North," he says. "It wasn't huge, but it was substantial enough. There were a few people stuck inside, but we got them out."

I stop shampooing my hair. This is news to me. If he has run-of-the-mill fires, he'll tell me about them casually, over dinner or in the midst of another conversation. It's the ones that he knows will bother me that he saves for when we're alone.

"You didn't say anything earlier about any apartment complex," I say. "And did 'we' get the people out, or did you?"

"I did. But it was fine. I made it out with plenty of time."

"What does that mean?"

"There were a few sections of the place that collapsed. But it was long after we were done in there. Nothing salvageable, we couldn't save it."

"Jackson!" I say, eyes open wide.

"What?" He genuinely sounds clueless, as if we don't have this argument once a month - maybe even more often.

"You can't do that," I say, shaking my head while staring at the blue tiles on the shower wall. "You have a family now."

"Can't do what?"

"Be a hero," I say. "I get that you love the rush, I really do get that. But if you keep it up, it could go wrong one day."

"Babe, it's not gonna go wrong. I'm always safe."

"You're not, though, and you know that you're not." He pauses, doesn't respond, because I'm right. "Baby, you're already Moonie's hero. And mine. You don't have to be anyone else's."

He's still quiet, but it's a different kind of quiet this time. It only lasts a few moments before the glass shower door pops open and he appears, as naked as I am.

I smile, moving over to give him room, and he backs me up against the wall. With my hands on his chest and the water pounding his back, he kisses me slow and soft, stroking both corners of my jaw with his thumbs.

"You don't have to worry about me," he says against my lips.

"But I do, though."

He smiles while kissing me, and I smile back. "Nothing's gonna happen," he says.

"Promise?" I say, winding my arms around his shoulders.

I hold on tight as he lifts me up, then twine my legs around his waist. He pushes inside me, strong and sure, and whispers, "Promise."

…

The next morning, Jackson stirs just as the sun is rising. I'm a light sleeper, so as soon as he lifts his arm off of my stomach, I'm awake.

"What time is it?" I ask, eyes barely open.

"Not even 5," he rasps, leaning over to kiss my forehead. "Go back to sleep."

"You have to leave?" I say.

"Yeah," he says. "I'm working a double. But I'm off tomorrow. What are you guys gonna do today?"

I throw my arms over my head to rest on the pillow, blinking slow. Jackson lightly traces the bend of my elbow and chills run down my spine, which makes my arms erupt in goosebumps.

"We're gonna film a video, if she's up for it," I say. "Get outside, maybe stop by and see fireman Daddy."

"Sounds good," he says, then kisses me on the mouth. "Come around at lunch. I'll be free."

I nod then say, "Will you bring her to me? She can sleep in here for a couple hours."

"Sure."

A few minutes later, Jackson tiptoes back into our bedroom with Ramona in his arms, cradled and asleep. He carefully sets her down beside me, then tucks us both in.

"See you later," he says.

"Be safe, please," I say, catching his eye to put across how much I mean it.

"Always."

I turn onto my side and watch him go, then direct my eyes towards our sleeping girl. She's perfect when she's awake, but I always get weepy when she's asleep. With her eyes closed, face relaxed, and glasses off, she reminds me so much of herself as a baby; the baby we worked so hard to make.

She's our miracle, that's for sure. I kiss her shoulder, covered with a silk pajama sleeve, and pull her little body close to mine. She smells like my lotion and her coconut shampoo; fresh, clean, and sweet.

"Oooh, my baby," I say, squeezing just soft enough not to wake her.

I let my eyes drift shut with Ramona in my arms, resting on top of me with her head on my chest. I press my cheek to her forehead and rhythmically pat her back, listening to the quiet sounds of her breath as she inhales and exhales. I keep her right there, tucked against me, as I fall back to sleep.

Later, when I open my eyes, the sun has risen and the room is bright. Just as I'm waking up, Ramona stirs too.

"Hi, Moonie," I say sleepily. "Hi, baby. Good morning."

"Mama," she says, her cheek pressed to my collarbone. She smiles from where she lays, her mouth full of tiny baby teeth, and rests a hand on my cheek.

"Daddy brought you to our bed," I whisper. "So you could wake up with Mama."

"Mama," she says again - her favorite word.

While lying on my back, I sway side to side with my lips against her head. "What was it like in dreamworld last night?" I ask. It's our favorite question - mine to ask, hers to answer.

"Unicorns brushing teeth," she says with a giggle.

"Unicorns brushing their teeth?!" I repeat, my voice high and squeaky. "Now, that's just silly."

"Hamburgers on scooters."

"Hamburgers riding scooters, too?!" I parrot again. "How are you having dreams that are so fun? How can I start having some of these dreams? Huh?"

I tickle her belly and she squeals with laughter, throwing her head back so it fits in the crook of my neck. I keep tickling her until we're both tired out, then pull her close again to plant a kiss on her cheek.

"What do you wanna do today?" I ask. "You wanna film a video for our channel?"

With her thumb in her mouth, she smiles and nods. "Video," she says.

"I think that sounds fun, too," I say. "Then, how about we go see Daddy?"

"Daddy!"

"Alright," I say, lifting her easily into my arms as I get out of bed. "Let's get started."

…

After setting up the camera and ring light up inside Ramona's room, I plop her on my lap and get us situated in front of the lens. We're both in pajamas with our hair far from done, but when the red light comes on, we know what to do. This is far from our first rodeo.

"Hi, guys," I say.

"Good morning, morning, morning!" Ramona sings, throwing her arms above her head and narrowly missing my chin. "It's the morning!"

"Yes, good morning!" I say. "Today, me and Moonie wanted to share what a day in the life of a toddler with Krabbe disease looks like."

Ramona fidgets in my lap, playing with a stuffed animal. She understands her condition to a degree, but she's barely three years old. All she knows is that she's heard Mommy say these words a billion times, and they never get more exciting. So, it's time for her to tune out.

"Krabbe disease is a condition that affects the nervous system," I explain. "If you're new to our channel, that's something you might not know. If you're one of our subscribers, bear with me! Krabbe isn't something that a lot of people are familiar with."

I clear my throat and situate Ramona onto one leg, bouncing her up and down slightly.

"The very, very short story… if I sat here and told the long story, we'd be here longer than this little one has the patience for. If you're curious, I'll link a video of ours that goes into more detail in the description below. But the short story is that Ramona Grace, this little beauty right here, was diagnosed with Krabbe when she was 6 months old. She was a typical, healthy baby - she still is, in most ways. And we are so, so blessed to be able to say that. But until that doctor's appointment, her daddy, Jackson, and I thought that she had really bad colic. She would cry for hours and had trouble breastfeeding. Lots of unexplained fevers. She took a sudden turn from the healthy baby that we knew, and the diagnosis helped us figure out why. And since then, we've been coping with it."

I smile to lighten the mood. It's not easy to start off a video like this, but it's the most honest way. It's good to put everything out there. It helps both myself and other moms out there who could be watching and wondering, or looking for a connection.

"I think about Ramona's condition every day. But that's where I try to keep my mind - in the present. In today! Which is why today, we're going to show you the life of a toddler with Krabbe, and just how fun a day with this little firecracker can be."

We pick out Ramona's outfit first, which is something she loves to show off for the camera. With the camera turned off, I help her get dressed - pulling her arms through holes that her muscles can't quite maneuver through, and tying the drawstring on her cloth shorts.

"Now, hair," I announce, once the camera is back on. "One of my favorite things is doing Ramona's hair. I love her curls. They remind me of her daddy's."

"Daddy is Black and Mommy is white," Ramona comments, looking at a toy mirror while I fasten her hair, keeping ponytail holders between my lips. "I'm both."

"She got the best halves of both of us," I say, smiling at the camera.

Once her hair is fixed into two high, curly pigtails, she says, "Mommy's hair turn!"

"Time for Mommy's hair," I say. "And time for Mommy to get dressed, too. What kind of lazy bones am I?"

"Mommy's lazy," Ramona says, trailing after me while I head into mine and Jackson's room.

I find an outfit, change into it while the camera is off, then quickly throw my hair into a bun while Ramona shakily keeps the focus on me.

"I holding the camera behind here," Ramona says, turning it towards herself. Her face is way too close to the screen, but I think it's adorable.

"Now that we're both dressed and ready, it's time to do stretches," I say.

"Stretch time!"

I sit on the floor with my legs in a wide V, and Ramona sits in front of me in the same position. Though she's younger and should be much more flexible, she is not.

"A typical symptom of Krabbe is muscle stiffness," I say, leaning over my daughter to massage the tiny muscles in her thighs and calves. "It's a big one for Ramona. The muscles get rigid, so every single morning and night, we stretch those babies out."

"Stretch, stretch," Ramona says. "Do my stretch."

"And it's good for Mommy to stretch, too," I say, bending only half as far as I can actually go because Ramona is watching me. Today, she goes farther than she did yesterday, touching her fingertips to the middle of her shin. "Very good," I say, getting excited and wrapping her up in my arms, showering her face with a million kisses. "That was so good, Moonie."

Ramona smiles and hugs my neck, happy with the praise. I praise her every day, but she's not stupid - she can feel when certain days are better or worse than normal. Today, thankfully, is better.

After stretching, we go downstairs to eat breakfast.

"There's nothing too special about breakfast," I say. "Ramona's day in general is actually pretty typical. We usually put Krabbe on the very back burner. We think about it when we need to, but no more than that. For the most part, she's just a happy, active toddler."

I pour Ramona a bowl of cereal and make a cup of coffee for myself, then sit us both down at the table.

"She has trouble with certain things… like, what's hard for you, Ramona?"

"Sometimes sleeping," she says. "When I can't."

"Sometimes sleep doesn't wanna happen, right?"

She nods. "Even when I try."

"That's the worst," I say. "Is anything else hard?"

"No glasses," she says.

"Seeing without glasses," I say, then address the camera. "The glasses are thanks to Krabbe, yes, but I also have terrible eyesight. I got Lasik in my early 20s. So, she probably would've ended up with glasses anyway. Just like Mommy!"

Ramona smiles and milk drips down her chin, mixed with a good amount of drool.

"It gets hard to swallow sometimes," I say casually, dabbing her chin with a dish towel. "Sometimes, we drool."

"Daddy drools and snores," she says, laughing.

"He sure does."

After we're done with breakfast, we play for a little while, spend some time outside, then decide that it's time to go see Jackson. I brush Ramona's teeth and my own, then get us set up with the camera in the car to head to the fire station.

"Daddy is a firefighter," Ramona says. "He's a saver guy."

"Your daddy does have a very important job," I say, backing out of the driveway while looking over my shoulder. "But fighting fires isn't his most important job. You know what is?"

"What?"

I squeeze her knee, then face forward again. "Taking care of you," I say.

She smiles and kicks her legs against the car seat, keeping a steady rhythm as we head to the middle of town where the fire station is. It's almost lunchtime, right when Jackson said he would be free, so I hope he has a few minutes to spare. I was too busy to text him before we left, but the station is small. He won't be hard to find.

When we pull up, I hoist Ramona onto my hip and hold her with my right arm while operating the small camera with my left. "We're here!" I say. "This is where the firefighters work."

"I see Daddy!" Ramona shrieks, then wriggles to be let down.

I set her sandaled feet gently onto the pavement, and she clumsily runs to where Jackson is standing. He's wearing his navy blue uniform pants and short-sleeved button up shirt, looking as handsome as ever. When he sees his daughter, his face lights up in a huge smile and he kneels down, getting on her level so she can give him a big hug.

"Daddy!" she exclaims. "Me and Mama came to see you. Do you have a fire?"

I listen to Jackson's response. "No, not yet," he says. "Hopefully, no fires today."

As I walk closer, Jackson's eyes catch on the camera in my hands. Something in his face changes - it's minute, but it does change - as he greets me.

"Hey, babe," he says, giving me a dry kiss on the cheek.

"Is now a good time?" I ask.

"Perfect," he says, still glancing at the camera. "What are you…?"

"A day in the life," I say. "At home, we were talking about what's like to go through a daily routine with Krabbe. We were having lots of fun. Right, Moonie?"

"We did stretches," she says.

"Good, I'm glad you stretched," he says, but doesn't acknowledge the video at all - or the camera, which makes filming a little weird. I like to show Jackson on our channel, everyone always talks about what a cute family we are, but he's never himself when the lens is pointed at him.

"I like filming you guys together," I say, peeking through the viewfinder.

Jackson shoots me a disgruntled look. "Maybe cool it for a sec?" he snaps under his breath. "I just wanna hang out with her while I have a break. Not perform."

"You don't have to perform," I say, but I lower the camera anyway before shutting it off completely.

"I just wanna see my Moonie," Jackson says, his tone changing as soon as the camera is off. "How's my baby doing? Huh? How's my baby?"

With one hand supporting her head and the other in the middle of her back, he tips Ramona backward and kisses her belly, which makes her scream with laughter. I smile while watching them - it's impossible not to - and think what I always think when I see them together. I love them both more every single day.

Not long after we get there, Jackson's captain calls him upstairs and he has to leave. "I'll see you tonight," he says, giving me a better kiss than before. He holds me in a tight hug after, one that I lean into, and rubs my back. "Bye, Moons. Go home and nap for Mama. "

She blinks slowly, smiling at him from where her head lolls on my shoulder. She's drooling on my shirt, but I'm used to it and I don't mind. Jackson dabs her chin with his sleeve, then kisses her before waving us both goodbye.

…

Jackson doesn't get home until late that night. He always tries to be quiet when he comes in, but it doesn't matter. I hear him every time, but I'm glad that I do. I like to know when he's home and safe.

"Hi," I say through the darkness.

He jumps, one hand to his heart. "You scared me," he says.

"You coming to bed?" I ask, my voice still crackled with sleep.

"Yeah," he says. "Give me a minute."

"I fell asleep with Moon," I say. "Will you take her to her room, pretty please?"

"Sure."

He comes over, still in uniform, and carefully lifts Ramona off my chest. She's deeply asleep, so she doesn't even stir as he holds her close and carries her out of the room. When he comes back, I'm in the middle of stripping off my drool-soaked pajama shirt and finding a new one, which puts me shirtless at the end of the bed.

He's quiet. He's typically tired after a long shift, and isn't a natural chatterbox anyway, but something is off. I can't go back to sleep wondering about it, so I have to ask.

"Are you okay?" I say, calling into the bathroom.

"Fine."

"Jackson. Are you really?"

He pops his head out just as I'm throwing on one of his loose, soft t-shirts. One of my favorite old, gray ones from when he was in training at the station. He gives me a strange, hard look, then turns off the bathroom light. He's in comfy clothes now, too.

"Well," he says, running his hands over his closely-cropped hair. "You threw me off with the camera earlier."

"You knew we were stopping by," I say. "I told you, before you left."

"No, yeah, I knew you were coming," he says. "But I didn't know you'd have the camera in my face. And in Ramona's face."

"It wasn't in anyone's face," I say. "I wasn't trying to be intrusive. I was just trying to film her day. That was our whole goal. We were having fun."

"Alright."

"I don't know what that means," I say.

"It just means alright, April."

He sits down on his side of the bed and I crawl over, sliding my arms around him from behind so I can link my fingers together over his chest. I rest my chin on his shoulder and kiss him through his t-shirt, adjusting my legs so they bracket his. When I move my arms lower to circle his belly, his muscles relax a little.

"Are you mad?" I ask, my cheek between his shoulder blades now.

"No," he says, overlapping my hands with his own. "Just… was it fun for you, or her?"

I frown and take a deep breath, but I don't let go of him. "We both have fun with it," I say. "I've told you a million times. The minute she asks to stop, we'll stop. But, right now, she loves making videos."

He sighs. "April, she's three. Of course she loves making videos with her mom. And I get that they're fun for you, too, but-"

"They're not just fun," I say. "They're informative. And we've created a safe haven for parents and kids with Krabbe. It's definitely not just fun."

He slumps forward, and I feel the curve of his spine. "I just worry that it's exploitative for Ramona. Talking about her condition so openly, answering all these personal questions so the world can hear the answers. What if she watches these videos when she's fifteen? What is she gonna think then?"

My eyes burn and I blink fast to ward off tears. I squeeze Jackson's middle, then shift my body so I'm sitting on his lap instead of behind him. He gets a good hold on my waist, holding my sides with two hands, and looks right at me. Right through me, like he always does.

I close my eyes for a long moment, then lean forward to rest my forehead against his. His hands slide up my back, bringing me closer, then he pulls me in for a long, firm hug.

With his face buried in my hair and mine in the side of his neck, we don't need to trade any words. He knows why his skin is wet with my tears, and I know very well why I can feel his shoulders trembling, too. But neither of us say it.

I try and squeeze him tighter than he's squeezing me, but it's impossible. I kiss his jaw and sit up once our embrace ends, and he holds my face in both hands. He gives me a sad little smile, one that breaks my heart, and I try to give him one back - one that's genuine. I hope it works.

"I love you so much," he whispers. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…"

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought the camera-"

"It's okay," he says, keeping his voice low before kissing me. "I promise. I just need you to know how much I love you. And her."

"I do," I say, and he hugs me again, so close, both arms wrapped all the way around. "Because I love you both that much, too."