It was a rainy, gloomy night. My husband and I had finally been released from the neonatal ward of US Naval Hospital Yokosuka with our perfect newborn son. We drove to our home and settled in with our 3-day-old. My good friend, Ashley, followed shortly with homemade dinner. Dinner and emotional support. I sat there with my baby, who was perfectly calm, well-fed, content. But as soon as realization sunk in, I panicked.
Ashley. I don’t know what I’m doing.
This is a BABY.
What if I mess up, what if I mess up, what if I mess up.