Watched every tiny breath and every number on the monitor.
Still, he cried.
Wade turned toward the sound.
Then he looked at me and asked in a voice much softer than I expected, “Is that the little one who needs someone to sit with him?”
I glanced at his volunteer badge.
He had passed the checks.
Completed the training.
Been approved for the infant comfort program.
Still, I hesitated.
And I’m ashamed of the reason.
I looked at his hands.
They were huge.
Rough.
Scarred.
For one second, I wondered if hands like that could possibly be gentle enough.
But Wade washed exactly as he had been taught.
He listened to every instruction.
He sat down carefully in the approved rocking chair, his large body stiff with caution, as if he was afraid one wrong breath might be too much.
When I placed Baby Boy Nolan against his chest, he cried harder.
