My husband and I lost our daughter at 23 weeks pregnant. I went through several rounds of unproductive induction medication, awful side effects, a Foley catheter, and two shift changes before we met Liz. I can't tell you how thankful we are that Liz was there. Not only were we sad and mad about the loss of our baby, but I was scared and in pain and I didn't know what was happening. I didn't realize the important role of our nurse until everything started happening. I needed Liz. I needed exactly who she is through all of this. Because of her face mask, I could only see Liz's eyes and I remember focusing on her eyes as she coached me through giving birth to my first baby and knowing she was not alive. Liz treated us like we were "normal." She congratulated us, told us how beautiful our daughter was, and respected our time with the baby. The most impressive act of kindness by Liz was when she swaddled our baby so gently for a newborn photo shoot. Once complete, she returned with her in a blanket and little hat. Not only did our baby girl look adorable but seeing Liz hold her and treat her like a living baby was so beautiful. We didn't look at the photobook Liz made for us until we got home. There were multiple pictures of our daughter in different outfits and different poses. How do you do that? How do you create such significant lifelong memories for grieving parents while going about your normal workday? How do you not let that affect you from getting your other tasks complete? People tell me and my husband how strong we are, but Liz, to me, is the strongest. I still think about her today, but if I passed her in the grocery aisle, I don't think I would recognize her because I could only see her eyes. Those eyes are ingrained in me for life. She is someone I will never forget. When I found out Liz's last name, I chuckled to myself. Of course, her last name is Sweet because she is in fact sweet and so much more.