As I wait for my husband to get home from a 10 day travel work trip, I am exhausted and the house is a mess. I am in the middle of potty training my son and my daughter is up to her eyeballs in crafts…all…over…the…house. She turned five in April and is headed to Kindergarten in about a week.
Every few minutes she pipes up and shows me her latest drawing of creative wonders. I am amazed at how creative she is since neither my husband or myself are very creative. I am even more amazed when I sit back and watch her play with her brother, read books, write her name, run around; just living life.
My outlook on life definitely changed once we had our daughter. Eighteen weeks into my pregnancy, my water broke. My husband and I were told we would more than likely miscarry, but if our baby did survive that he/she would come with a host of disabilities and health issues. I think of those times as she runs around the house, rides her bike, swims the length of a 50 meter pool – pretty much everything she does.
Although it was a long road the first years of her life with countless doctor, specialist, and therapy appointments, my daughter is now a perfectly healthy, active, smart, vibrant little girl. She is spunky, and has the uttermost sweetest soul you will ever meet. She has a heart of gold and I can’t help but think that she is destined for great things.
She will forever be my peanut and will continue to remind me on a daily basis to believe in miracles, to always have hope, and above all never give up.