“Come here balloon! Come here!”
The young voice calls to the pink balloon, following dutifully at the end of it’s long string.
“Come here balloon!”
The balloon makes it way slowly around the corner, waltzing with raspberry and pink streamers unfurled for a 2nd birthday.
A princess birthday. Our princess’s birthday.
Baby Girl, I can’t seem to call you my “big girl” quite yet.
Two years ago, I no longer had to worry. You decided to be born a bit early, on your own time, yet not your own terms.
I had worried for months, with my body not knowing what to do. Your world that was supposed to be safe and warm, instead contracted and squeezed you without real timing or purpose. Even when you decided to take your first breath, my body could not do the thing it was made to do: bring you into this world.
I could not give birth to you. Instead, you were welcomed by knives and glove clad hands.
You were warmed and swathed, your Daddy greeting you with his adoring smile. Your Dad holding you, others touching you. And your Mommy, far away.
I could not hold you. My body, my blood, draining away, leaving me faint. It took awhile before they trusted me with you. Took awhile before they, finally, let me hold you.
And even then, as you sank into my arms, melted into my chest, I could barely hold you. My arms screamed for you, but were overtaken with pain from the surgery meds.
I held on tight, but cried and cried and cried.
And you smiled.
I could not let you go. I held on as tight as I could and as much as I could.
During those first few days and weeks I felt so close to the edge. A force was pulling hard at my heart and mind, tugging at my cells, to go over an invisible cliff.
So I held on tight.
It has been two years now. Two years where your smile and laugh and joy and resilience continue to surprise and delight us.
You brighten every room, and even those you are not in.
God gave you to us – your parents and your brother, as a true gift, an amazing pretty angel, blessed with a butterfly mark. God gave you to us, as a ray of light, as a reminder of God’s everlasting love.
For me, you are a saving grace, defying even the body that bore you – and loving me despite, or even more, because of it.
In your eyes I see God’s Love.
Through your eyes, I see God’s Saving Grace.
Lord, thank you for sending this child of Yours into our lives. Help us to nurture and encourage her along the path You have called her. And, simply, help us to love her always – even during any difficult years that may lay ahead. Amen.