The lights in the waiting room were too bright. His head was spinning and his hands felt like they belonged to someone else as they carefully dialed the number on his cell phone.

She answered the same way everyone does when they get a call at 4 a.m.

He silently prayed that his voice would come, "Mom?"

Her voice was thick with sleep and heavy with worry, "Jim? What's wrong? Is Pam alright? Is the baby sick?"

He didn't expect it to come out so easily, "He died last night."

He felt her heart breaking, "Oh God...oh baby, what happened?"

He cleared his throat, hoping to expel the lump that was stuck in it, "Um, they aren't really sure right now. The doctor thought it might have been SIDS."

"Where's Pam? Is she alright?"

At the mention of her name, the dam broke. He wasn't able to keep the tears from falling freely, "They had to admit her to the hospital. She uh...they sedated her I think. She's sleeping."

The images of the last few hours assaulted his mind. Swirling around in flashes like a scene from a horror movie.

He'd woken up to the sound of Pam screaming in the nursery. He couldn't remember if he'd said anything when he found her, panicked, his son limp in her arms. It got blurry between that moment and when they got to the hospital. The E.R. nurse had struggled to get the baby out of Pam's arms. He'd had to hold her while they took him back into the E.R.

No more than five breathless minutes later the doctor came out with the terrible news. He remembered hearing "SIDS" the terrible killer they'd been warned about in all those baby books. The doctor had used the words, "inconclusive" and "autopsy" and he thought he was going to be sick.

Pam sunk down to the floor, gasping for air. He knew the sound of her grief in that moment would haunt his nightmares forever. He stood there frozen while a nurse went to Pam's side to help her to her feet. He needed to go to her, hold her, and make it feel better. But he couldn't will his feet to move. Instead, he'd turned to face the wall, unable to watch it anymore.

A few hours later his mother was in his ear, promising to get there as soon as she could.

"Mom?" he asked.

"Yes baby." She said calmly.

"I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"I don't think I can make this call again. Pam's parents...they need to-"

"Jim, I can call whoever you need me to."

A parent's endless love. Something he'd only experienced for five months, but he understood it all now.  But all the love in the world wasn't going to bring his little boy back.

"Can you do something for me?" she'd asked. "Please go find your wife and stay with her."

"Sure." He said, knowing full well he'd be sitting in the same place when his mother arrived in a few hours.

His baby was in the morgue and his wife was probably strapped to a bed in the psych ward. Jim Halpert who had always been the one who was ready to jump through hoops for anyone couldn't even get out of a chair in a hospital waiting room.

It had been the worst night of his life, and he knew that things were only going to get worse.