Miracles

I remember a time when this little munchkin thought she lived in a hospital. The hospital was more home than home was. So much so, in fact, that she would be ecstatic to visit the clinic, hospital, or emergency room at any chance. 

I also remember when she lost her hair to chemotherapy and all the Ugly that came with it. I remember her carrying her infusion pump around with her. I remember her extra appendage of a PICC line in her arm-- there since I had first met her years ago when she had the chicken pox. Thinking back now, it seems so simple what made her happy; chicken broth, being held, dressing up like a princess-- she'd just climb into my arms and snuggle with me. 

I remember getting the news that the first transplant had failed and that she would need a second. I remember pleading with God for a miracle, even though He had already answered that prayer for her older sister months earlier. I hoped she would live, but I was scared she would die. Life is so fragile. Through it all she was positive and happy and even when she didn't feel well and spent the majority of her day over her friendly pink bucket, she did not complain. It was all she had ever known really; being sick.

This month we celebrated her seventh birthday. There was a time I wondered if she'd even live to see her next birthday, let alone her seventh. She's still bright eyed and happy. She's still the little champ I've always known. She still shouts my name and runs to me with her arms open when I come to visit. And I'm just so grateful I have had the chance to learn and grown with this little one and her family.

Her hugs feel like home. And her freckles kill me