Last year, she was still my pudgy-wudgy baby. Really more like a nine month old, as she hadn't quite yet caught up from her extreme prematurity...
As of Saturday, she is two... and no longer my little baby. She loves Gene Kelly, and Singin' in the Rain, pretending to read the verses on my Scripture memory cards... and many other way too grown up things. This birthday made me feel a little nostalgic.
We've started a tradition of visiting the NICU each year on S's birthday- to bring cake and visit the nurses so that they can see her progress. While we were there I peeked into the door of S's old room. A little tiny baby, less than 3 pounds, was huddled on its tummy in the incubator.
Suddenly it was two years ago, and I was thinking back to my own tiny baby- so frail, bili-light goggles on, covered in peach fuzz lanugo. There might be nothing so beautiful or miraculous in the world as these micro-preemies.
July 13th is a day to remember God's Mighty Mercies to our little family. He has been so so good, and I am so thankful for my miracle girl S.