She supported Rosalie’s head with one palm and slid her other hand under her lower back.

“Here she comes,” Nurse Elena whispered.

She lifted my daughter out of the box and laid her right against my bare chest.

Rosalie weighed less than four pounds.

Her skin felt hot and damp against mine, like a tiny pebble warmed by the summer sun.

She turned her small face sideways, her nose resting against my collarbone, and gave a tiny, shuddering sigh.

The cold resolve I had held onto all morning suddenly fell apart inside me.