There are moments in life that scar you with fear and bring about all new levels of faith: moments you never forget because of who stood beside you in them. For me, one of those moments was watching my newborn baby boy lying there, so small, surrounded by suction tubes, IVs, oxygen, and beeping machines. Drowning in exhaustion and pain from labor and broken-hearted as I stared at the minuscule drops of colostrum that I had laboriously pumped for, drops that didn’t even cover the bottom of a bottle, drops that made me feel like I was failing him. But Emmalee Whitlow swept in with such a profound presence of energy and encouragement. She looked at those tiny drops like they were liquid gold. She celebrated with genuine excitement, cheering and applauding me as I walked down to the nursery every three hours. She didn’t just encourage me; she resurrected a hope I thought I had lost. She made me believe that I mattered and that what I was doing mattered. She had been with me in postpartum, grounding me as my world shook, and now here she is again, caring for my baby with the same devotion she had with me. She didn’t just care for us medically; she cared for our hearts. In the moments when defeat weighed heavily on my shoulders, she breathed hope into me like it was the most natural thing in the world. I truly cannot thank her enough. She was the strength in our weakness. Emmalee is literally gold, and God put her in our path right when we needed her.