One day in June, Miri and I walked to the front desk of the NICU to sign in. My head briefly felt like there was a bubble of thin air around it and everything outside the bubble was moving too fast. I remembered the first time I felt this way was when our son, Gabriel, checked in to the NICU two months earlier at 22 weeks and 6 days of gestation. I had sat in a chair as a neonatologist and five nurses and technicians transferred Gabriel from the mobile isolette they had used to bring him up from the delivery room to a more permanent one. I heard them speak in a quick military kind of cadence as they hurriedly connected monitors and pumps and tested them to make sure they were working correctly.