Rebecca was sitting by the window in a wooden armchair, holding her three-week-old daughter against her chest.

The baby girl was wrapped snugly in a soft, pale yellow blanket, sleeping peacefully in the warm midday light.

I set a glass bowl of fresh strawberries and sliced peaches on the wooden kitchen counter.

“She slept straight through her morning bath,” Rebecca said in her quiet, direct way, resting her hand protectively over the little blanket.

“She’s got your quiet strength,” I said.

Rebecca smiled softly and tucked the blanket around the baby’s shoulders.