“But Mommy…”
He whispered the next sentence so quietly I almost missed it.
“The baby looked at me.”
“What?”
“The baby with our rabbit.”
“What about her?”
“She smiled.”
I laughed nervously.
“Newborns don’t really smile yet.”
“I know.”
He nodded slowly.
“That’s why it was scary.”
That night, after both children were asleep, I lay awake replaying every moment from the hospital.
The labor.
The emergency rush when Lily’s heart rate briefly dropped.
The dozens of nurses coming and going.
The medications.
The exhaustion.
Could a mistake happen?
Hospitals always claimed they had strict identification procedures.
Electronic ankle bands.
Matching bracelets.
Security alarms.
It was practically impossible.
