The End

Abigail,

Taking a look back over the last 5 years, there is this one moment in your first few days of life that has stayed with me, all this time. I was sitting in my hospital bed, reading the blog post that Miss Bree wrote about your birth, with tears streaming down my face. You were maybe 3 days old. So many people – family, friends, strangers – left comments of love and prayer. The messages came from around the block, around the country, and even around the world! Not all of these people knew us, but they were all rooting for you! And one comment, in particular, struck my heart like an arrow.

Mary (and Tim) Walker, whom I have never met or spoken with, added this comment to their continued prayers: “These are such tender pictures. So many people are praying for your little one. I see her playing with the other kids on the playground in kindergarten!”

I can’t describe to you or to anyone else how that comment made me feel. It nearly knocked the wind out of me. The best I can do is tell you that it literally left a weight on my heart that I could feel in my chest. All of our goals in those first few days were just to get through. To survive the day. So, to read that someone could so plainly see a future for you, so far away, was such a blessing for me. It changed my perspective. It took away some of my fear. It gave me the beginning spark of the strength that so many have marveled at over the years. Reaching that goal – to see you play with your friends like a normal child on a Kindergarten playground – became EVERYTHING for me. It has been my driving force for your whole life.

I don’t know exactly what Mrs. Walker saw in her vision of you on that playground. But the vision it created in my mind was as clear as if she’d handed me a photograph. I saw you, as a small girl with braided hair, laughing and smiling on a swing set. You were surrounded by other children and you were trying to get that swing as high as it could go. You were the epitome of what it meant to be starting Kindergarten. You were healthy, normal, and (most importantly) happy. This imaginary image became what I clung to every time we met an obstacle. Every time we had a set back. Even every time we experienced a triumph. Every step of the way, this image flashed in my brain and I knew we could keep going. We could make it.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words:

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The last 5 years have easily been the toughest half decade of my life. But everything we wanted for you, everything we hoped and prayed for… it’s here.

This is the end of our Micro-Preemie story. You did it. You survived those first few days, and I’ve survived the last 5 years. Baby girl, we came out on top. I could not be more proud, or relieved. You are going to be just fine. Enjoy every moment on that swing, Princess. You’ve more than earned it.

I Love you.
-Mama

******************************************************************************************************To all of my readers:

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for continuing to follow us on our journey with Abigail. Thank you for the prayers, the words of encouragement, the advice… all of it. You’ve been amazing.

This is where I will end my postings on this blog. I will never take it down, as I want Abigail to be able to read it when she’s old enough to understand her story. But I don’t have anything further to add. Don’t worry, though – I’m going to keep on writing.

Join me on my new blog: http://www.TheMermaidandtheDinosaur.wordpress.com

I’ll be writing about everything under the sun (but mostly I’ll be writing about our crazy life with 2 amazing kids!). It will be different, for sure – but it it will be fun! Hope to see you there.

Thanks again,

-Jen

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