She Was Born Enough
The room was bright, my body exhausted—but when my daughter cried, the world went still  . I waited for messages, for joy to arrive on my phone. It didn’t. When words finally came, they were careful… distant… some quietly cruel. “Different.” “She’ll grow into it.” No one said perfect.

I held her closer and understood something simple and true: babies aren’t made to be judged—they’re made to be protected  . She doesn’t owe beauty to earn kindness. She is worthy because she exists  .

So I promise her this: in my world, her value is never questioned, her softness is honored, and love never hesitates  . And maybe that’s the question for all of us—when a new life arrives, who do we choose to be?