In awe

Dear Emilee,
Last night, before I went to bed, I scooped you up in my arms and held you tight. You were completely unaware that your momma was holding you, snuggled up together as we sat on the edge of my bed. You never felt the tears fall from my eyes onto your little cheeks. You never woke up as I ran my fingers through your hair or gently kissed your forehead. You never heard me thank the Lord for giving me such a precious little girl to love, nurture and raise. However, I am certain that you could feel the love I was sending your way.

After spending a few precious minutes rocking you, holding you and loving you, I tucked you into bed right beside me so I could hold you some more. I listened to you breathe. I felt the beating of your heart. I cried as I remembered our journey together. I cradled you in the crook of my arm and together we fell asleep.

I'm amazed at you, Emilee. I'm amazed at your strength. Your spirit is so free. Your smile and your giggles are contagious. Your life, precious. Em, you are a fighter. You started out with a fighting spirit and it remains. The future holds great things for you, my precious Emilee.

Just four years ago, I was given another precious little baby to welcome into my life. My heart swelled. My fears grew. Was I able to do this? Did I have it in me to be the best mom I could be? Would my baby girl be okay? I had so many questions that only time would answer.

Our time together, with you in my womb, was short. I spent so many nights away from your Daddy and your siblings while being in the hospital. I cried, I prayed, and I felt defeated. I endured poking and prodding, medications, needles, surgery and so much more to give you the best chance I could. I fought hard to keep you safe, inside, until your tiny body was able to survive outside of me. Unfortunately, my efforts failed. My water broke 9 weeks early. I was hospitalized and we waited. After many attempts, we finally had an amnio done to determine if your lungs were mature or not. The initial test came back negative. Your lungs were immature. However, soon after, it was determined that you needed to be outside of me. My womb, your home, was infected. You had to be born, now! We couldn't wait any longer.

You arrived, eight weeks early, weighing just over four pounds. You were tiny but such a fighter. I remember the feeling of seeing you for the first time, hearing your cries. They were music to my ears. Being so premature, it was possible that you would not cry. My heart broke as they wisked you away to the RNICU. I knew you were in the best hands but my heart broke into tiny pieces knowing that I couldn't give you what I needed to. Once again, my body failed me. I wasn't able to keep you safe, inside my womb, until you were ready to be born. I was soon to be a second time RNICU parent. Your sister was also in there just a few years earlier.

Your stay in RNICU was short, compared to many other babies, but for us it seemed like eternity. I remember the first time I saw you, hooked up to so many things. Your precious face was covered with tubes as your tiny lungs needed help breathing. My arms longed to hold you, comfort you, yet your body couldn't handle that quite yet. Once again, I felt defeated. I was torn between being a mommy to you and a mommy to your siblings. You both needed me in so many ways. I did the best I could, visiting every few hours, holding you when your body could handle it and pumping and delivering "mommy milk" to you several times a day. We watched as you grew stronger. Your lungs became strong and you were able to breathe without assistance. You learned to suck, swallow and breathe all at the same time. You gained weight a little bit, day by day. Your tiny body figured out what to do and when to do it. You amazed me, your daddy, and all of those that loved you. And finally, after what seemed to be a lifetime, we were told you were coming home.

I can't begin to explain the feelings we felt as we left that RNICU with you. You were all ours. No more poking or prodding. No more wires or beeping monitors. No more trips to the hospital, fearful of what we would see when we arrived. No more 2am phone calls to speak with your nurse. No more feeling guilty as I left your siblings to come be with you. All of that was gone now and you were safe in our care. You were welcomed into our home by your brothers and sister. They looked like monsters as they sat next to you. You were still so tiny.

Each year, you grew more and more. You learned to crawl, walk, and talk. You got your first tooth, your first cold, your first owie. You became curious, took some tumbles, and wrapped your daddy right around your little finger. You learned that you had to stick up for yourself. Your fighting spirit continued to show, especially when it came to your siblings. We were proud. We were blessed. You were perfect.

And here you are, a big four year old. You are still perfect. You are beautiful and sweet. Your spirit is still free, your still a fighter, and you are just as precious and amazing as the day we welcomed you into this world. You amaze me each and every day. Hearing you speak, watching you play, standing by as you make decisions are all things I live for. You, my baby girl, are so precious. You hold a special place in mommy's heart and yes, my dear, you still have your daddy wrapped around that little finger of yours.

We love you sweetheart.
Happy Birthday!
Love,
Momma & Daddy