They left their two-month-old with me while they went shopping. But his desperate crying wouldn’t stop. I checked his diaper and what I found made my hands tremble. I grabbed him and rushed to the hospital.

Machines moved. Gloves snapped into place. The crying continued—weak now, exhausted.

I stood frozen in the corner, my hands clasped together so tightly they hurt.

Minutes later, the doctor turned back to me.

“You did the right thing bringing him in,” he said firmly. “He has an inguinal hernia.”

I blinked. “A… what?”