Social workers sounded like people you called after you had failed.

Then I looked at the bassinet and said yes.

An hour later, a woman named Celeste came to my room with a yellow legal pad.

She did not begin with a lecture about being a single mother.

She asked what I would need at home to lift and feed Noah safely while my arm healed.

She explained that the hospital could arrange a discharge-planning meeting, review home-care options, and connect me to services if family support was unavailable.

She did not promise miracles.