My six-year-old daughter was supposed to be spending a fun day with my parents and my sister, until my phone lit up in the middle of a work meeting and a police officer told me she’d been rushed to the hospital after being found locked alone in my car during a brutal heatwave

The world tilted on its axis as I stared at her in disbelief. “Because of the circumstances and the heat index, we were required to contact Child Protective Services and the police,” she explained.

I followed her down a long, sterile hallway, my legs feeling like they were made of lead. When she pushed open the door to a private room, I saw Chloe sitting on the edge of a high hospital bed.

Her face was beet red, and her hair was matted with sweat, making her look incredibly small. “Mommy!” she wailed the moment she saw me, her face crumpling into tears.

I rushed to her, pulling her into my arms and holding her so tightly I could feel her heart racing. She sobbed into my shoulder, her tiny fingers clutching my shirt as if she were afraid I would disappear.

“I’m here, baby, I’ve got you,” I whispered, though my own tears were blurring my vision. She smelled like salt and hospital soap, her body still radiating a terrifying amount of heat.

“I was so thirsty,” she whimpered between hiccups. “I tried to get out, but the door wouldn’t open.”