Seventeen years ago, I lay in the hospital with my newborn daughter beside me in her crib. Exhausted but enchanted, I declined a nurse’s offer to take her to the nursery, wanting to keep her close. The next night, overwhelmed by fatigue, I asked another nurse if she could take my baby to the nursery for a few hours. Her shocked expression startled me. “Your baby stays with you,” she said firmly. “We don’t have a nursery. No one would ever take her from you!” Confusion washed over me—had I imagined the first nurse’s offer? The moment
passed, but it left a lingering unease. I held my daughter tighter, vowing never to let her out of my sight. That experience, though fleeting, shaped my early motherhood, reinforcing my instinct to protect her. Looking back, I wonder if it was a misunderstanding or a strange glitch in those blurry, sleep-deprived days. Either way, it taught me to trust my gut and cherish every second with my child.
