Nineteen years (and one day) ago I was busy getting to know my brand new daughter, and marveling at everything my mother (who'd had a ring-side seat during the delivery) was telling me about her birth, and what happen immediately afterward in the NICU (I had asked her to go with them when they took Ri). The Dr.'s and nurses were still scratching their heads over how she had come through completely well after such a long, difficult, and dangerous delivery; they certainly hadn't expected her to. They could not explain how it was that she was fine. So many things went wrong during that delivery, but she was perfectly healthy. I believe she was a gift from a merciful God. I wasn't saved at the time, but later on Ri was part of the reason I did get saved.
Yesterday we celebrated her birth with a day full of some of her favorite foods. I fixed pizza sticks for lunch, chicken and dumplings for supper, and chocolate pie for dessert. Right after I served her pie it started raining hard. She jumped up from the table with an, "Eeeeeeeppp!!", ran in the sunroom, slung open the sliding glass door, and threw herself prostrate on the floor in order to get pictures of the rain spashing on the deck with the camera she had gotten for her birthday. Family, Superman, and her best friend had all pitched in for the ridiculously expensive thing, but that's okay. She's worth it.
Nineteen years ago I felt lucky to be holding my daughter. Today I know I'm incredibly blessed to have her. She's such a wonderful, beautiful, exceptional person. I'll have to give her over to her new husband in a year, but I'll hold on with all I have and enjoy every minute I can with her until then.
Happy Birthday Sweetheart!!