“You’re frightened. So am I.”
She turned toward the window.
“You’re not listening to me. I can’t do this.”
For the rest of that afternoon, she refused to hold Leo.
I did Leo’s bottle feeding and changing while she barely acknowledged us.
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“You’re frightened. So am I.”
She turned toward the window.
“You’re not listening to me. I can’t do this.”
For the rest of that afternoon, she refused to hold Leo.
I did Leo’s bottle feeding and changing while she barely acknowledged us.
The fluorescent, tube style lighting of the pediatric clinic staff pantry hummed a dull, monotonous, vibrating tune. It was a frequency that usually faded…