“Your big girl left this on the waiting room table,” Elena said.

She reached into the bag and pulled out the sheet of white paper Brooklyn had spent hours coloring on Friday afternoon.

The crayon wax was thick and smooth, with the red and blue arching over four green stick figures standing in a crooked row under a sun.

“Is it allowed on the plastic?” I asked.

“It’s allowed anywhere that helps her breathe,” Elena said.

She unrolled two inches of medical tape, tore it off with a sharp snap of her teeth, and fixed the top corners of the drawing right to the side of the incubator.