One!

Dear Lively,

How can it be that one year ago today, I met you for the first time? It seems like you were born just days ago, and at the same time, I can't remember what it is like not to have you in my life.

It has been a hard year for our family, my love. One year ago today was the last time I spoke with my beloved Granddaddy on the phone. He was very sick, at home with hospice care, and he had been quite sedated and sleepy for several days. After you were born, he woke up enough to talk to me on the phone. I told him that you had arrived, that all was well, that you were healthy and beautiful and perfect. And he said, "Of course he is. Why wouldn't he be?"

My grandfather was Lively Wilson, and he has always been extraordinarily special to me. When your father and I found out that we were going to have a baby boy, we instantly agreed that we would name you Lively, because we both loved my grandfather so much and thought there could be no better role model for you (with the exception, in my mind, of your own father, for whom you are also named). Your great-grandfather knew of your arrival, but I am sad that he wasn't able to see you in person. My heart broke when you were 7 days old and he died. I miss him every day. I wonder if he's somewhere that he can hear me talk to him, if he can see you, if he can watch over or guide you. I hope he can.

At the same time that I felt shattered by the loss of my grandfather, I felt whole and purposeful and hopeful by your presence in our family. Your personality was apparent even at one week old. You are happy! You are full of love. You are calm and cuddly. I instantly fell madly in love with you, and somehow I love you more each day.

I can't help but realize that your birthday is also probably the anniversary of your stroke. We can never know what happened with certainty, but you probably had a stroke due to some unknown complication of your birth. I have looked back at photos of your first day, week, your first months, to see if there is any clue that something was wrong. I have not found the slightest hint.

During your first year you have been hospitalized 5 times, not including your birth. You have been admitted to the ICU twice. You have had surgery twice, and you have been intubated 6 times. You may undergo surgery again tomorrow. You have had 2 MRIs and probably 50 x-rays. You have had NG tubes and NJ tubes. You have had your blood drawn 50 times or more. You have taken hundreds of doses of medication. You have had countless seizures. You have spent over 50 nights in the hospital, including tonight. It's all enough to make a fellow grumpy. But you look like this:

Your father, sister, and I love you madly, as do your many grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends. Like your namesake, you seem to have a special charm that draws people to you. People can't help but grin when they see your beautiful, toothy smile.

My dream for you: be happy. Be healthy. Know that your family loves you. Continue to radiate optimism and joy. And heal, my sweet baby. Please heal.

Happy birthday, my precious Lively.

Love,
Mama