Her 14th Year...
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15

Fifteen years ago, I was twenty-something.  My life was full -- we had a two year old boy with bowl-cut light brown hair, and I'd just delivered the most beautiful black-haired, light-skinned, rosy-lipped little girl the world has ever seen. She was Snow White in person. 

PicMonkey CollageA few hours after bringing her into the world, while still in the hospital, I collapsed in the shower.  Blood surrounded me, my body was shutting down, my blood pressure plummeted. I saw the infamous white light. 

Someone shouted.  Hurried footsteps.  The nurse's aide who found me panicked, nurses came, two doctors ran - one from his office, one from the emergency room - to see who would get there first, the head nurse told me to focus on her eyes  -- I remember her face clearly; I thought she was my dark-skinned, brown-eyed angel.

She blurred and disappeared. Falling, falling, falling, falling....letting go of all but a thread. 

A bit of sadness:  his graduation, her wedding day.

Overwhelming peace. Peace and clarity of thought:  I was okay with this. 

Grateful. My baby was healthy.  I was the one hurt; she wasn't.

Thankful.  I'd given my husband a little boy and a little girl. They could only improve this world.

At some point, God said "not yet," and the doctors and nurses won the battle.  I could see again.  I searched for my husband.  His panicked face is another image I will not forget. 

I was too weak to hold my baby;  it took weeks to make more blood so I could be strong again. But I survived and I did grow strong enough to enjoy her little girl years, her awkward stage, and now her teen years.

One thing has remained true for 15 years:  I'm grateful and thankful for my baby girl.

She can only improve the world.

 

 

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