Elena had advised us to build parenting time gradually in ways that matched the girls’ needs and Brandon’s demonstrated skills.

He had learned their medication instructions, the location of the pediatric clinic, and the difference between Quinn’s hungry cry and Piper’s overtired one.

The plan allowed for changes as they grew.

At two-thirty he sent a photograph of both girls sleeping in their portable cribs, a stuffed bear sitting safely on a shelf well away from them.

Underneath he’d written: Fed, changed, asleep.

Everything okay.