Two women had come with their precious newborn babies. One had come with a heart filled with pain

IT was through the fish-eye view of her camera that Leebie absorbed the news.

Three mothers. Three suitcases. Two car seats.

She checked the women’s records, because maybe, it was possible, the baby was a preemie and would be staying in the hospital for a while? That happened sometimes, and the family encouraged the kimpeturin to go to Akeres for a few days, to regain her strength.

But a swift glance at the three files verified her suspicion. Two women had come with their precious newborn babies. One had come with a heart filled with pain.

She had done this before, not once and not twice, but each time, Leebie felt at a loss. She stayed in her seat for a few minutes, forehead buried in her palms, as she tried processing the woman’s sorrow. She needed to go downstairs, greet those women, and get them settled. She called Tziporah to come take care of the two new mothers, then braced herself. How do you face a woman who has just experienced such grief? What do you tell her?

Instinctively, she skipped her regular hearty mazel tov, and offered a neutral, “Hello, welcome, I’m Leebie Herzog. Let’s get your stuff tagged, and then I’ll show you around.”

When the tagging was done, Leebie deliberated for a minute, then told the two new mothers, as mechanically as possible, “Tziporah will come get you shortly,” and motioned for the third woman to follow her.

She left the two mothers holding their swaddled bundles. The bereft mother trailed behind her, arms dangling awkwardly at her sides.

Leebie couldn’t take it. She paused in front of the elevators. Nobody was around. She looked into the eyes of the woman earnestly and asked, “Can I give you a hug?”