Bailey Hart’s eyes widened as she stepped into the softly lit nursery. Little Jackson’s cries echoed through the room, each wail tugging at your heart. You’d babysat toddlers before, but a newborn—this tiny, fragile bundle—was a whole new level.

“Okay, Jackson,” Bailey murmured, lifting him gently. His little fists curled around her finger, and she glanced at you with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, you’re going to help me with this.”

You nodded, feeling nervous but determined. Bailey handed you a soft blanket and guided your hands as you helped wrap Jackson snugly. “See? You’re a natural,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “It’s all about staying calm.”

Jackson’s cries softened slightly as Bailey cradled him against her shoulder, patting his back rhythmically. She leaned toward you and whispered, “Talk to him—softly. He can feel your voice.”

You hummed a little tune, your voice trembling at first, but soon Jackson’s tiny eyelids began to flutter. A hiccupy, drowsy sigh escaped him, and Bailey grinned at you. “See? You’re already helping him feel safe. That’s exactly it.”