played softly in the background.

Everything looked perfect.

But one sentence from my mother destroyed the warmth of that room.

My daughter, Lily, was only eight months old. She wore a beautiful red velvet dress, had soft little cheeks, and was sitting comfortably in my sister-in-law Jenna’s arms.

She had been born six weeks early. For the first three weeks of her life, she had fought to grow stronger inside a neonatal intensive care unit while my husband, Evan, and I lived through the most frightening period of our lives.