She turned five today. Five.
Five whole years loving a miracle. Five whole years of so much joy. Five whole years of being a mama.
Five feels hard. I say this every year, but for real. She might as well be driving. Hold me, Jesus. She’ll go to KINDERGARTEN next year. I can’t take it.
I can’t believe it.
All of the hospital stays. All of the therapy. All of the syringes and feeding tubes and connecting tubes and ferrel bags. All of the doctor’s appointments. All of the nights I never thought we’d sleep again. All of the IV sticks and finger pricks and glucometers and beeping pumps. All of the labels.
He has overcome.
He’s a little fighter, this kid. And he keeps surprising us. Surprising his doctors. Surprising his therapists. He’s come so far. And we can’t be more proud of him.
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