While my daughter slept, then cried, then ate, then cried, I read every post, comment, and article. I let myself be drawn into the tide of anti-vaccine rhetoric, allowing myself to feel what it must be like to encounter these messages again in a time of physical and emotional upheaval. In the blue light of my phone, I found a message that targeted my deepest fears with surgical precision, then came up with a seemingly simple solution. Vaccine propagandists were waiting for me, ready to pounce on my darkest fear that something terrible would happen to my daughter. They told me that they understood my concerns, that they saw my journey through the medical facility, that they understood my pain as a new mother. And they had an answer. There was one thing, and only one, that posed a risk to my child. Vaccines were the threat, and by refusing them I could free my family from all the messy “what ifs”.