When my daughter was nine, she began writing about her life as a rare girl trapped in a defenseless body. Born without the ability to produce neutrophils, the warrior cells that patrol the bloodstream, she had already survived more than fifty near-fatal infections by the age of five. Despite the constant IVs and endless needle pricks, the hospital became her refuge—a place where nurses welcomed her like family, and her hematologist called her his superstar patient. To Leta, it was her home away from home, shelter from a world where she struggled to belong.

My manuscript tells this story from two perspectives—mine, as a mother fighting for her child’s survival, and through the words my daughter penned as she came of age in a body that constantly thwarted the pursuit of her dreams.