Pilly hospital blankets.
Teeny, white, plastic bracelets.
Fresh, delicate skin.
The intoxicating smell of silky hair.
Peach fuzz that glows in the morning light down chubby cheeks.
Breathe. Bask. Soak.
Outside noise is left at the threshold of a hospital door. All that matters in this room is life. Precious new life.
THIS. This is all that matters.