14/10/2025
I was rocking my baby, Emma, in the corner of the CVS waiting area, praying her bottle would last until they called our name. We'd been there nearly an hour — her pediatrician had prescribed new medication for reflux, and the pharmacy kept saying they were "still preparing it." Outside, cold rain streaked down the windows, the kind of damp chill that seeps into your bones. When I found out I was pregnant, the baby's father disappeared. So I've been raising my daughter alone ever since. She started fussing again, tiny fists waving in the air. I whispered, "Shh, sweetheart, Mommy's got you," and tried not to notice the line of people staring. A woman in a crisp white coat behind the counter sighed loudly. "Ma'am, could you please step aside? You're blocking the pickup lane." "I'm sorry," I said quickly, shifting the stroller a few inches. "She just—" Another voice cut in from behind me. "Some of us have real problems, lady. Maybe don't bring your baby to a pharmacy like it's a daycare." But I just hadn't another choice. This baby and I have no one else except each other in this world. Laughter rippled from somewhere in the line. My face burned. Emma's lip trembled — then she started to cry again. Then one woman came right up to me and said, "YOU SHOULD GO OUTSIDE! I CAN'T BEAR THAT BABY CRYING ANYMORE!" Some people murmured in agreement. My heart broke — but then, suddenly, Emma stopped crying and looked with wide eyes at something behind the woman. I followed her gaze.⬇️