My son began to fuss, so I went to him.
I lifted him carefully against my chest, feeling his warmth settle beneath my chin.
For once, the phone kept buzzing and I didn’t rush to answer.
My family had spent years teaching me that their emergencies were always more important than my pain.
My son had been alive less than a month, and he had already taught me something better.
Some things were worth protecting before anyone else gave you permission.
