Owens said.

A night-shift nurse came into the exam room two minutes later, wheeling a metal IV pole fitted with a digital infusion pump and a small clear bag of fluid.

June whimpered softly when the nurse wrapped a tiny blue tourniquet around her upper arm, looking for a usable vein in her forearm.

I held June’s right shoulder still, talking to her in a low, soothing rhythm while the nurse slid the small catheter into place.

June gave a short, indignant cry, then settled back against the crib sheet as the nurse secured the plastic line with clear medical tape.