“Do you want to be there?”

“No,” I said.

“My place is here.”

“I understand,” Margaret said.

She turned and walked back toward the elevators.

I stayed by the glass.

The nurse adjusted my blanket.

“Do you want to hold one of them?” she asked.

“Is it safe?” I asked.

“For a few minutes, yes,” the nurse said.

She led me into the sterile room.

She washed her hands.

I washed mine.

She carefully lifted my daughter from her incubator.

She was so light she felt like nothing in my arms.

Her tiny hand brushed against my thumb.

I let out a breath I felt like I had been holding for months.

“You are safe now,” I whispered to her.

“No one can take you away.”

The monitor beside her beeped softly.

The sound was steady.

It was the first time since their birth that I did not feel terrified.

An hour passed.

Then two.

The transfer to the private wing went smoothly.

The new room was large and quiet.

There were no other patients.

Three private nurses stood by the doors.