Miracle

September 2005

The moment comes back to me crystal clear, like it were yesterday. Tender and unforgettable. It was the very first time I laid my eyes on her, I couldn’t take them off. It hurt to see her so tiny. So ragged and old. Oh how young! She was thin and bones. Twenty four hours after my C-section when the drugs wore off, M pushed me to the nursery in a wheel chair. Probes to measure the heart rate, probes to calculate oxygen levels and finally the feeding tube. All sticking out of a body as big as my husband’s palm. Weighing just over a pound at twenty nine weeks, she was small, still so beautiful. That's how I remember my daughter, a day after she was born. Prematurely. Yet the doctors called her a ‘fiesty little peanut’. Some called her a fighter and assured us that she would do great. Every time I was pessimistic and worried, M asked me to be strong for her, to fight for her, just like she was fighting for herself. And he was right. My daughter taught me never to give up even when the stakes are all against you. I am so proud of her, she is my miracle, she is my hero.

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Check out this song by Martina McBride, reflects my feelings to the dot.

You can listen to it here;

it’s called “In My Daughter’s Eyes”.

This post is in response to the prompt from Writer's Island.

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