Two years earlier, when Noah’s baby sister Ava had been born, she had screamed for months with severe colic. The family could not afford pediatric specialists or expensive remedies. So Noah did what he always did when confronted with a difficult problem.
He studied.
He read everything he could find on infant digestion, colic, massage techniques, pressure points, and soothing methods. He borrowed books from the library, watched free videos, asked questions at clinics, and tried one careful adjustment after another until he found what worked. A certain hold. A steady pressure along the back. Less bouncing, more support. Humming instead of constant talking. Calm instead of frantic movement.
His grandmother liked to say he had “hands that listen.”
So while other passengers heard only noise, Noah heard something specific. The pattern of distress. The kind of crying that suggested trapped gas, overstimulation, discomfort no amount of hurried rocking would fix.
For nearly two hours he argued with himself.