I can remember how warm it was that night. It was February! In Michigan! We were so happy. So excited. Our first baby is on it’s way. God how I wish I could go back. That’s never an option for good or bad times, is it? Her cord was pinched off under her arm. Lack of oxygen. Brain damage. Transfer to NICU at University of Michigan hospital, Ann Arbor. They took her and left us with a Polaroid. Three long days later I was released and we could go to her. We put on our gowns, washed our hands for the big moment and were led through the doors. The babies in there were so tiny. Some looked transparent. Other reminded me of baby birds who fell out of the nest too soon. There she was. Betsy Lynn. A robust 8lb baby just fitting into the isolette. Tubes, IV’s, monitors beeping. I could not grasp that less than three days ago we saw her foot move across my belly. She was fine. She was healthy. She was supposed to come out and there would be tears of joy, smiles, having her handed to me but there was none of that. Only silence. Is there something wrong? Why isn’t she crying? I wasn’t scared. How could anything be wrong?