Some Nights Hit Different

I got home from my shift at 7 AM and Marcus was already up with Sophie, trying to convince her that Cheerios belong in her mouth, not on the floor.

Some Nights Hit Different

I sat down at the island and just… stopped. You know those moments where your body arrives but your heart is still somewhere else?

Making coffee at 7 AM after a night shift

The pediatric ward during Christmas is something else. Kids who should be home decorating cookies and tearing open presents are instead hooked up to monitors, asking when Santa will find them in the hospital. Their parents sleep in uncomfortable chairs, trying to make everything feel normal when nothing about this is normal.

Coming home to what matters most

I held one little girl’s hand while she cried for her mommy, who was getting coffee at 3 AM because she hadn’t left her daughter’s side in four days.

Holding my baby a little tighter today

When I came home and saw Sophie in her Christmas onesie, babbling at her reflection in her high chair tray, I couldn’t help but think about all the parents who would give anything for this ordinary morning chaos.

Processing the night on the pediatric ward

I picked her up and held her maybe a little too tight, breathing in that baby smell that somehow makes everything make sense again. Some shifts remind you what’s sacred. This morning, it’s messy hair and Cheerio crumbs and the sound of my daughter’s giggle echoing through our kitchen.

Being a nurse during the holidays means carrying other people’s pain home with you. But it also means coming home to your own beautiful, ordinary miracles with fresh eyes.