His small right hand lay on top of the sheet, his thumb softly rubbing the worn corner of his triceratops blanket.

“Hi, sweet boy,” I whispered, coming up to the side of the bed.

Caleb slowly opened his eyes and looked up at me through heavy lashes.

“Mom,” he whispered, his voice dry from the breathing tube they’d taken out an hour earlier.

“Is the doctor finished?”

“The doctor’s all finished,” I said, bending to kiss his forehead.

“You did so well.”

The heavy wooden door opened behind me, and Dr.