I was worried about one thing leading up to the birth of my first-born.
I was worried that the hospital would accidentally switch her and we’d bring home the wrong baby.
I wasn’t worried about potential medical issues. Or actually being able to afford to have a kid. Or that nothing can prepare you for reality of being responsible for another life.
My one fear was bringing the wrong baby home.
And then I walked up to the window of the nursery where they had taken her to get cleaned up.
It had been a busy night so there were at least a dozen squalling babies in there.
Despite having only held her once. Despite having had less than 10 minutes together.
It was so obvious which was ours. There might as well have been a giant arrow and flashing sign pointing at the bassinet.