Most of Lauren’s childhood was a blur. Hazy at best. Muddled memories. Days blending together. Little snapshots—the places they’d lived, the yards she’d played in, her mom’s voice, familiar scents, the little stuffed monkey she’d slept with. But there were a few memories that stood out. Days and moments she recalled with stark clarity. Like when she met her sister for the first time. Her mom had left her overnight. That was probably the first reason she remembered it so well. Up until that point, she’d never spent a night without her mom. It was scary, not having her there. What if she’d had a nightmare? No way would her dad comfort her. He barely looked in her direction, and she didn’t think he’d ever hugged her.

That night, she’d slept coiled up in her bed, her little stuffed monkey pressed to her chest, and prayed for morning to come quickly.

When the sun had finally come up, her dad took her to the hospital. It was a crowded place with beeping machines, phones ringing, doctors in lab coats and nurses in white whisking past them. Carts being wheeled on the linoleum, women walking slowly down the hallway in hospital gowns, attached to wires and poles, people dressed in regular clothes holding flowers and cards.

Her stomach felt funny like that time she ate way too much candy the day after Halloween. But her dad didn’t like when she whined or acted afraid, so she held her head high and continued to follow him.

Once she saw her mom, her fears faded. Her mom looked tired, sitting in the hospital bed wearing a white gown, her hair messy, her face pale and sweaty. But she also looked beautiful. Happy. That may have been the other reason Lauren remembered the day so well. She’d rarely seen her mom that happy before.

Her baby sister was asleep in a glass bed with wheels. When she stirred, making a tiny, squeaking noise, Lauren’s mom scooped her out. She had a pink blanket wrapped tightly around her body, only her head visible. Lauren joked that she looked like a baby burrito. Her mom laughed. Her dad didn’t.

Lauren was allowed to climb up on the bed with her mom so she could get a better look at the baby. It didn’t look like much. A bald head. Scrunched up face. Wrinkled skin. She didn’t think the baby was that cute.

Her mom told her to be careful and not to touch the baby. Said she could get sick. Lauren was getting bored. Restless. She’d been so excited to meet the baby, but now it wasn’t that exciting. She didn’t want to leave, though, because that meant she’d have to leave her mom. So she kept sitting there. Kept staring at the baby as she did nothing.

And that’s when something magical happened.