When you were approximately seven minutes old, I couldn't see you.
My eyes had failed me due to extremely high blood pressure from severe preeclampsia.
What helped me in a strange way was that your eyes had not yet opened so you couldn't see me, too.
Your life was tentative, and facing your early birth at 27 weeks left me in denial, traumatized, and fearful.
Twenty-seven weeks gestation. Twenty-seven.
Seven minutes old and you were wisked off to the NICU to begin your life inside an incubator.
By seven days old, you had stabilized a bit. You were even taking 1 tiny cc of breast milk by gavage tube feeding. I lived each day based on your temperature, feeds, and saturations.
By seven weeks old, my vision was beginning to return. You were fighting your way past blood transfusions and a couple of heart stopping events of airway oclusions.
By the end of your hospital stay, you had ticked seventy-nine days off a calendar. Seventy-nine.
It was quite a journey, and I remember thinking I'd never get through it. But, you did. Your fighting spirit drove you to live.
Today, you are seven years old. Today, I celebrate your amazing existence. I celebrate your pure goodness, Meghan Rose.
Happy, happy birthday to my beautiful girl with the luck of seven.