Moana After ten hours of intense and grueling labor, little Daisy was born. “She’s so tiny,” I whispered as I held the little crying bundle in my arms. The doctor weighed her at just six pounds and twelve ounces, but she was as healthy as an ox. Edrick, who hadn’t left my side throughout the entire delivery, leaned over my shoulder with a wide grin on his face and held his hand out to touch her cheek. Almost instantly, Daisy’s little hand shot out and gripped his index finger with a relentless force for such a little thing. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and yet she still had an instinct to keep her father’s finger in a vice grip. I couldn’t help but laugh, but I also wanted to cry. When I was on the cliff with Michael, I saw my parents at my birth. I did the same thing to my father, and I also wouldn&
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