

It started with one hedgehog named Biscuit.
My daughter carried him home in a shoebox with a hand-warmer and a dishcloth. He uncurled for the first time in her lap watching cartoons. That was 2016. We were completely done for.
Now our spare bedroom is the hedgehog room โ warm tubs lined with fleece, a lullaby playlist on low, and babies who know what hands feel like before they even open their eyes.
I know every mama by name. I know which ones like to swim and which ones huff at Monday mornings. When a baby leaves here, they go with a worn snuggle sack that already smells like us โ because the first nights away from home are scary, and familiarity matters.









