Nearly 42 years ago, I was born on January 17th with a weight of 2 lbs, 11 (?) ounces…My due date was in March some time (St. Patty’s day I believe?) but I decided to bless the world with my presence early. WAY early in that day and age and upon my arrival my parents told me I was said not I wouldn’t live. They baptized me in the hospital, as well as giving me my last rights. And then came the on going wait…
But after several weeks (it may have been months, the story sadly is not fresh in my memory) in the ICU, in an incubator, I was sent home. I fought hard to live…to breathe…to BE.
My earliest memory is of me at around age 3, but I am told as an infant my Mother dressed me in doll clothes because preemie outfits didn’t exist back then. My Father could place my head in his hand, and my toes wouldn’t reach the crock of his elbow. I was TINY.
Yet my fighter instinct set in, and I was ready for a life of fighting, struggling, and movin’ forward. Tell me I am not going to make it another day, and despite my initial want to throw in the towel I will fight back twice as hard as anyone else.
Looking back I remember so many times when I hit rock bottom (or so I thought) and I wanted to give up. I’ve learned though…there is no ROCK BOTTOM…it’s simply a stepping stone to move forward.
I never quit. And no matter the circumstance, I am constantly reminded by God up above that he gave me the blessing of life. He saved me, more times than I can count and now it is up to me to save myself from the day to day life battles I encounter. It’s up to me. And I’m not ready to quit…in life, in training, in regards to my family and friends, in my career. I won’t. Give. Up.
With World Prematurity day honored today, I am reminded of the life I’ve been given…and I won’t waste another second of this precious gift. #keepmovinforward