Dear daughter,
Today, my heart broke. It's amazing to me that both of the young men that have been important in your life share the bond of having lost a brother. One never knew him and the other only briefly met him. Someday, you will be a mom. I hope you never experience the heartache of losing a child. I hope you only experience the miracles of having one.
I'll put his birthday on my calendar now too, and I'll send his mom a card, and thoughts and prayers. Both of these families have also experienced the miracles of having another child. The young man that you have in your life now is that young man, that miracle. He was a blessing to his parents, a child they so wanted and love. It shows.
Although I never experienced the loss, you are also my miracle child. They didn't know if I would have children because I had issues before I ever had your sisters. Then, almost exactly a year before you were born, I almost died. You are my miracle baby because I almost wasn't here to have you. Because of that, you were the biggest blessing of all. You were the "I'm alive" baby, the one we weren't trying for, the one we didn't think we would have and the one whose brought such tremendous joy to us.
I look back to that day, almost a year before you were born and sometimes wonder what if.... I was so sick, I was too sick to stop at the pharmacy even, I just wanted to go home. I picked your sisters up early so I wouldn't have to worry about them. Your dad was out of town on a business trip and not expected back until late in the night. I decided that I needed to go to town and just pick up my meds and some soup for your sisters and I. It was all I could handle that night. I knew that as soon as I started taking my meds I would feel better. When we got home from town, your dad was there. He had returned early. He was on the phone talking to one of his colleagues. Your sisters had went upstairs and I was getting ready to make them dinner. I decided I had better take my medicine. It was a new one, I had never taken this antibiotic before. I took it, along with the other meds and went on to making dinner. I vaguely remember walking into the living room and sitting down for a minute thinking about how hot I felt. I was feeling really funny so I got up and walked into the bathroom. I took one look in the mirror and knew I was in trouble. My face was ballooning up, my lips were getting huge, and welts were coming out on my face. From the time I walked into the bathroom and back out the 6 steps or so to the living room, I lost the ability to breathe or speak. I was dying and I could feel it. I had an epi-pen because of my latex allergy. I had never used it. I dumped my teaching bag out and shot myself with epi. I was able to get your dad's attention and he panicked. He screamed, I vividly remember that for your sisters who were little then, just 7 and 3 and somehow got me to the car. It was the eeriest drive to the ER. He drove me because he knew I would be gone before an ambulance would get there. I don't remember much after that except the words we can't find a pulse.... Sometime, hours later, I found out that friends happened to be in the ER and saw me come in. They took your sisters with them because they were so scared. That night changed me, it changed your dad, and it changed your sisters. I found out that night what dying felt like. I found out what panic felt like. I found out that I had the choice to live and to be happy with who I was.
Sometimes, I need that reminder. Sometimes, I need to remember we are all here because it is our time. Sometimes, we need that miracle and sometimes, God has other plans. Your guys, your best friend and the guy you care so much for. God had other plans for their brothers. For some reason, God had a plan for me that included having you. You are my miracle baby. You are my I'm happy to be alive baby. You are the reason I do what I do and am as passionate as I am about way too many things.
I love you,
Mom
