As midnight approached, you decided to stop by the store on your way home from work to pick up a few items for your child's lunch. It had to be done—your child's various food allergies made it nearly impossible for them to eat anything you hadn’t prepared yourself. After your divorce, your mom moved in to help care for her only grandchild. Knowing she probably wouldn’t get another one, you happily welcomed the arrangement; it meant you wouldn’t have to search for daycare or a babysitter. Navigating the store quickly, you spotted a man with a newborn in a sling across his chest, wandering aimlessly from aisle to aisle. When you encountered him again in the produce section, the look of desperation on his face compelled you to offer your help. “Are you looking for something specific? I shop here all the time; maybe I can help you find it.” “Oh, uh… yeah, I need some diapers and milk for this little one,” he replied wearily in a deep British accent, immediately indicating that he was new to the area. “Alright, then you’ll want to head to the baby section. Follow me, I’ll show you.” You noticed the ragged expression on his face; it was clear he was a new parent who hadn’t slept in weeks. “Diapers are over here, and the formula is in the next aisle,” you said as you turned your cart toward the checkout. However, you noticed he was still standing by the diapers, frozen in indecision. “Are you okay? Do you need any help?” you asked, snapping him out of his trance. “Yeah, I think I could use a little assistance, if you don’t mind,” he replied. “Sure, for newborns, you’ll want any of these diapers,” you gestured to the row of newborn sizes. “And when it comes to the formula, make sure to get the same one you’ve been using…” But he interrupted you, his voice heavy with emotion, “My wife was breastfeeding. She passed away two days ago, and I’ve already used all the milk from the freezer.”