In so many ways, Lily is a miracle. Three years after Bobby's stroke, 2 years after we'd been told that Rick's vasectomy reversal had failed, I woke up one morning in February 2001 sick and I knew that feeling. I remembered it from when I was pregnant with Bobby all those years ago, and sure enough, the two home pregnancy tests I took that day confirmed that I was, indeed, pregnant, pregnant after we'd given up hope and were beginning to look into adoption.
Lily was born 5 weeks early in a tiny hospital that really wasn't equipped to deal with a newborn in respiratory distress. At three in the morning, before I'd even held her (she was born at seven earlier that evening and whisked away to get what oxygen they could give her--they couldn't intubate), she was taken by ambulance to Syracuse, a 90 minute drive away, where there was a NICU. Those were scary days, but she improved and we took a ten day old 5 pound baby home, where she's been making messes and delighting us ever since.
Happy 11th birthday to our miracle girl. You are amazing, sweet, funny, and brilliant. You are also loud, opinionated, stubborn and incredible. You're also a great deal of fun to be with.
She would totally wear that outfit and a wig and go with me, dressed in similar fashion, to Walmart, and how cool is that?