I came into the hospital feeling absolutely broken physically, emotionally, and mentally. I’ve been carrying a baby with a terminal diagnosis, and while that wasn’t the reason I went in that day, it’s something I carry with me every moment. But that day, I was just so sick. I had been throwing up for days. I was dehydrated, weak, and barely holding it together. I didn’t want to go to the hospital. I didn’t want to leave my kids, and I didn’t want to have to explain my story, not again, not while feeling so vulnerable. But then Kayla walked into the room. She didn’t ask me to justify my pain or explain every detail. She just showed up, fully present, fully compassionate. She listened. She helped. She moved with such calm confidence that I began to breathe more easily for the first time in days. She never made me feel like I was too much, or like my needs were a burden. She treated me like a human being, not a patient number. With every word and gesture, she reminded me that I was safe and that I wasn’t alone. When your body is shutting down and your heart is already broken from carrying a baby, you know you may never get to raise, it’s hard to describe what it means to be treated with such grace. Kayla didn’t just care for my symptoms; she cared for me. She gave me back a little strength I didn’t know I had left. In one of the hardest seasons of my life, Kayla made a painful day feel bearable. And that kind of care deserves to be honored.