That the frightening words in the delivery room had been the beginning of a manageable path, not the end of a hoped-for one.

That her daughter was going to be all right.

Lauren looked at me for a long moment, taking it in.

And then she looked at the baby in my arms — really looked at her, for the first time without terror standing between them — and slowly, she held out both of her arms.

I walked across the living room, and I placed her daughter against her chest.

And I have carried the memory of that particular short walk with me ever since, because I do not think I have ever done anything in my life that felt more right.