You only snicker at "gay" twice before Holly sighs your name in exasperation.
"It doesn't just mean 'girls liking girls or boys liking boys,' Gail," she says as the tip of her strong, sturdy finger traces along the delicate curve of your nursing daughter's cheek. "It means bright and lively and beautiful and happy."
You move closer to the bed and watch as tiny lips work steady against Holly's breast. "Do you think she'll be happy," you ask in a small whisper.
You can feel the warmth of brown eyes on you.
"We love her," Holly responds, "It'll be enough."