Inside the ER the scene turned into a blur of well-practiced motion: nurses, warm blankets, oxygen and careful hands. The little girl was stabilized and moved into neonatal care; the staff later told me an hour’s delay could have been fatal. I sat in a wet jacket and answered the police and medical questions for hours, and when the nurses let me see her in the NICU she was tiny but breathing on her own — stubborn, quiet, and clearly a fighter. The community rallied: my motorcycle club helped get donated baby supplies, neighbors brought blankets, and the hospital staff checked in on us as if we were family.