“Her lungs are very small, Claire,” Elena said, tapping her ballpoint pen twice against the edge of her clipboard.

“She’s working harder than a full-term baby has to.”

I leaned my forearms against the clear plastic side of the box, keeping my hands tucked in close.

The skin on her tiny feet was thin enough to show the faint purple lines of her veins.

“Can I touch her arm?” I whispered.

“Not right now,” Elena said, gentle but firm.

“The sensors taped to her skin are set to exact pressures.