So I did the only thing I could do — I asked for help.
I made a small fundraiser online. I wrote about my baby boy fighting in an incubator. I wrote about how I didn’t know how I would afford to bring him home.
And strangers helped.
Most gave small amounts. Five dollars. Ten.
But one person — a man whose name I never learned covered everything we couldn’t.
He even visited the hospital once. I barely remember it clearly. I was exhausted. But I do remember a tall man standing quietly near the window, wearing a bright red cap. He didn’t stay long. Just nodded politely and left.
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