It’s 2am. I’m in the hospital with my newborn. I’m exhausted. I should be sleeping. But I’m not. I’m not because, as with every delivery, a weird cocktail of excitement and worry runs through my veins like caffeine despite the hours I spent in the intense, physical exertion of labor and the sleepless night that preceded it. I lay there with my baby in the clear bassinet next to my hospital bed and I tell my body, “Be quiet. Go to sleep. Relax.”