Dim light from a child’s nightlight washes the room in an orange glow. You stand still; your gaze fixed on a small, stuffed Snoopy. Your infant son is in your arms; his head turned sideways, breathing restfully into your shoulder. The crown of his head rests in the cranny between your lip and nose, his sparse hair provoking the slightest tickle. You smell the scent common to everyone of his kind: the baby smell. Your gaze wanders aimlessly from the boyish pastel curtains to the lovingly arranged crib, where your son will spend the better part of his first year.

Your entire world, for all that you could care in that moment, rests peacefully between your shoulders.