Saturday, March 15, 2014

A Letter To My Daughter One Year After the NICU

Here' my letter to Harper one year (and one day) after she left the NICU.  Mimi, Tony says to get the tissues...



Harper,
Holy cow, kiddo, you’ve been home for a year- a whole year! When you were in the NICU, the days seemed to drag on- 74 days of holding you through a plastic gown and having specific times when we could pick you up, change your diaper, snuggle you close-those days are long behind us. I thank God everyday that you spent 74 days in the NICU, though, because without that time- without those precious days of growing- you may not have been with us here today.  So, here’s to a happy anniversary- your homecoming and what a year at home it is has been!

You have learned so much, Harper, and you continue to surprise and amaze me everyday. You do things and I think “surely she didn’t just do that” or, “how does she know how to do this already?”  You are a smart cookie, Miss Harper; those wheels are always turning and you are constantly analyzing and assessing the world around you. I can see you putting things together, for instance: we taught you to sign “more” when you want more food, now you’re using the sign when you want us to read another book, or sing another song, or even hold you again after putting you down. I can’t wait to see what you put together next.

Harper, you also have this comedic timing that has to be God given because even your dad, who is super funny himself, couldn’t have taught you this. It blows me away when you make a face at just the right moment, or throw your hands into your “I don’t know” pose, or put your hands to your mouth in “uh-oh” right after you have intentionally done something. You make things hard for us because we’re trying not to laugh so we don’t encourage you, but you’re so gosh darn cute and funny!

Harper, my little girl, my daughter, my baby “B” with the twisted positioning and the under developed lungs, and the tiny, tiny hands, my Harper- look how far you have come, my dear. You came home a year ago and we all held our breath because in the back of our minds we were so afraid that we would have to take you back to the hospital, but we didn’t. We were worried that you wouldn’t eat, and we struggled to get you your nutrients and we were sure that you were going to end up right back in the hospital with an NG tube…but yesterday afternoon, we watched you eat scrambled eggs, chicken, sweet potato fries, and cheese and you laughed and smiled. You have come a long way from our “failure to thrive” girl to our little one who now walks where she needs to go.

When I think of you and all you’ve been through this year, I well up inside- I well up with pride for the fighter that you are, for the stubborn streak that you inherited that gave you the will to push through so much. I also well up with sadness because no mother wants to watch their child struggle, and the feeling of helplessness that accompanied your struggle changed all of us. This year has been a tough one for you kiddo, but it has also made you the girl that you’re becoming- gone are the little baby days and the moments of sleeping in my arms- gone, but not forgotten.

I know you are meant for big things, Harper, God made you a fighter for a reason. You and your brother are my walking, talking miracles, and I thank God everyday that He chose me to be your mother. We have so much to learn from each other. I pray that God will guide you in all that you do, and you will look to Him, especially when you feel like things are too much to bear. I pray that you will stay stubborn (crazy for me to want that, right) and true to your beliefs in all you do. I know this world will sway you and many things might come between us, Harper, but know that I am so proud to have you as my daughter, so inspired by you, so humbled that you call me “Momma”. Of all the gifts God has given me, my children are the greatest blessing. Please don’t ever question what you mean to me.

Last year when I wrote to you, I quoted a song that I’d heard on the radio that morning about a mother looking into her daughter’s eyes and seeing the future. When I look in your eyes, Harper, I see tenacity and I see fire and I see a girl who is going to light up the world- I can’t wait to watch you do it.

I love you,
Momma






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