Each day, before the hospital fully woke up, she moved silently from bed to bed. No one noticed at first — parents rushed in and out, focused on treatments, test results, and routines. But one morning, a mother lingered just a bit longer… and saw something she couldn’t ignore. The nurse gently touched her daughter’s forehead — not to check for fever, but with a tenderness that felt almost like a blessing. She was singing, barely above a whisper — a lullaby.
And then she did the same with every child.
Even those who were sleeping. Even those who were unconscious.
She told them they were strong. That they were loved. That they weren’t alone. She fixed their blankets, tucked in their toys, and sometimes slipped tiny handwritten notes under their pillows. No one had asked her to do this. It wasn’t part of her job. But to her, it was the job — healing not just the body, but the heart.
When the mother shared what she saw, other parents began sharing too. They all had stories — quiet moments, soft words, a comforting presence when hope felt far away. Slowly, a picture emerged of a nurse who had given so much more than medicine.
Today, a small plaque hangs at the entrance to that pediatric ward. It doesn’t list degrees or titles. Just one line:
“To the one who also healed the soul.”
And those who pass through still speak of her — the nurse who made the mornings softer, and the pain a little less heavy.