On Tuesdays the Sparkle girls come in to do nail painting and pampering for the ladies (I type this now with metallic purple fingernails). Yesterday Hannah brought in her four-month-old baby Mia. Mia is full of smiles and delight. She is a bundle of baby perfection whose own peculiar ray of sunshine added an even sweeter tone to the warm, laughter-filled day we were having already.

Dan grabbed her as soon as she arrived, and held her for most of the afternoon, though I snuck a brief snuggle too. Dan had been hanging around all day, helping with lunch, cracking jokes and painstakingly typing out RED LIGHT DARK ROOM with one of those old Dymo label makers we found in a drawer. But when that baby showed up she was totally absorbed.

Mia was completely unperturbed by being handed over to a stranger and no sooner had she landed in Danielle’s lap she stuck her hand in Danielle’s mouth and giggled through sleepy yawns at this grown up who was pulling faces for her amusement. Danielle has her own daughter’s name tattooed on the inside of her forearm amidst the thick scars of self harm and needle tracks. She is a drug addict. She sees her seven-year-old daughter only on once-a-week access visits. She is probably not the kind of woman you should feel comfortable handing your very small baby over to.

But Mia didn’t make any of those judgments. Her small brown eyes that barely had room amidst a face filled with chubby baby cheeks didn’t see any of the mistakes or the stigma that Dan carries with her every day. She just saw warm arms and a kind face, cooing and grinning at her. Dan got a rare moment of loving tenderness, physical contact that wasn’t about sex or power but instead warmth and care.

What was arguably even more beautiful about this interaction was that Mia’s mum Hannah was totally willing to hand her babe over to a woman who is not only a drug-affected sex worker, but someone who had lost custody of her own little baby. Hannah didn’t hand her baby over as some sort of experiment in social justice, nor did she do it in neglect of her child’s best interests.

She gave Dan a small reprieve from her life because she trusted her to hold and protect her daughter. She trusted her in full knowledge of the stigma that weighs on Dan’s back, much like Atlas was weighted down by the burden of the world. Hefting her baby over to another woman was a generous, nappy-covered gift, one she gave because she was wise enough to see the need and caring enough not to judge who ‘should’ and ’shouldn’t’ get a healthy dose of soft baby love.

It was a bittersweet moment though. Dan kept repeating wistfully that she wanted to keep Mia, take her home. When Hannah and Mia drove away I stood with her in the fading afternoon light and remarked that she was good with babies. ‘Yeah, well,’ she replied bitterly. ‘I couldn’t even look after my own baby. I’m not that good.’ The afternoon shadows crept away as the sad words lingered in the cool air, hanging there until someone made a joke and we began to laugh again.