The sharp burning along my surgical line had finally settled into a dull, heavy throb that let me rest my hips flat against the bed.

Outside the closed door, the hallway was completely still except for the quiet rhythm of the air conditioning vent in the ceiling.

Brooklyn’s thumb slipped into her mouth, and her eyes fluttered shut as her small body went limp with sleep.

I closed my eyes and listened to the soft, steady sound of my daughter’s breathing next to my cheek.

For the first time since Friday afternoon, the heavy weight behind my ribs lifted just enough to let me fill my lungs completely.