Somewhere in the hall someone is screaming.

The good and bad thing about a hospital room on the maternity ward is that it feels a bit like a cocoon. You sit bundled up in bed with this precious new baby and you're pretty oblivious to the rest of the world.

It's blissful and a bit suffocating all at once.

Today the biggest thing we had going on was Traveler's hospital picture session. He, of course, slept through the whole thing. But, he managed to look adorable while doing it.

I bought the cheapest package I could get away with (which is still ridiculously overpriced) and settled back in to my adjustable bed to gaze adoringly into his milky brown eyes.

And then I heard it. Even though my door was closed and I was swept up in my cocoon of new baby bliss, I heard the unmistakable sound of terror and heartbreak.

It was enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. There was shrieking. And crying. And my heart sunk to the floor when I realized it was another mother here on the maternity ward.

I do not know her story. I do not know what happened. I do know that moments later I heard running and carts streaming through the hall. I heard rushed whispers from nurses about a STAT Team being called. And, I do know that the sound of a mother's heart broken in two is not a sound you forget.

I prayed for that woman for what seemed like an hour. I prayed for her baby. And, I held my own baby bundled tight in my arms and cherished each and every perfect moment with him.

But it reminded me that in every moment of blissful ignorance and in every second of my own selfish joy, somewhere in some hall someone is screaming. And that I should be thankful for every good and perfect moment I am blessed with.