I look at you today, vibrant and alive, and cannot believe that you are the same child who almost wasn't.
The same tiny baby, so sick and swollen, back arched in pain, fighting for her life.
The same pale body, wrapped in a web of tubes and wires and bandages as I sat by your side, endlessly, watching... waiting for you to turn pink... to open your eyes... to smile.
I look at you now, your dancing eyes. Your bubbling, contagious laugh. Your tangle of curls struggling to free themselves, as bouncing and full of life as you are as you run and dance across the room. The only tell-tale signs: a scar arching from one side of your perfect little belly to the other and the frequent bruise on your arm from the needle sticks.
You: my own personal ray of sunshine.
I pray that, someday, you too will know this joy, but never the pain of almost losing it.
The same tiny baby, so sick and swollen, back arched in pain, fighting for her life.
The same pale body, wrapped in a web of tubes and wires and bandages as I sat by your side, endlessly, watching... waiting for you to turn pink... to open your eyes... to smile.
I look at you now, your dancing eyes. Your bubbling, contagious laugh. Your tangle of curls struggling to free themselves, as bouncing and full of life as you are as you run and dance across the room. The only tell-tale signs: a scar arching from one side of your perfect little belly to the other and the frequent bruise on your arm from the needle sticks.
You: my own personal ray of sunshine.
I pray that, someday, you too will know this joy, but never the pain of almost losing it.
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