Eleven years ago yesterday, my first born son barged into the world, weighing only 2 lbs 3 oz. Eager to join my husband and me for Christmas, he was born thirteen weeks premature. This is a picture of him when he was nine days old. He had just come off the ventilator, and this was the first time I got to hold him. Even a request for a full or partial doesn’t come close to how I felt that day.
For ten weeks, while he was in the NICU, I tried to remain optimistic, praying he wouldn’t become a mortality statistic like so many other babies there. With determination, and the miracles of modern medicine, he grew stronger and bigger, though not without a number of setbacks along the way.
The experience didn’t leave him without a mark, but he tries hard not to let it stand in his way. And even though he struggles big time with sports, he works hard at gymnastics and dreams of being a ballroom dancer one day. Yep, So You Think You Can Dance had something to do with that.
As everyone knows, rejections are painful. But they’re nothing like watching your baby cling to life, watching your friends’ babies die, learning medical terminology only NICU staff should know, and wondering ‘what if.’
So, happy birthday my miracle child, and thank you for teaching me what’s really important in life.
XOX