Two Little Words

Grow up". Those were not the words spoken but rather the thought she had in her mind as she watched the small baby being wheeled off to the NICU.

The tiny baby was the shell of what was to be a girl. Three pounds 4 ounces and despite having the ten fingers and toes every parent hopes for she knew as her baby fought for every breath that she too was in the fight of her life.

"Your daughter may not make it through the night" She of course would not hear such words or give them power to manifest. "She will, I know she will."

The little girl did make it that first twenty four hours though her hospital stay was to be a long one. The first touch she would ever know would not be that of her mother's loving embrace but those of a nurse who would adjust the machines and regulate the temperature that was needed to sastain life.

Three months would go by. Three months of a home with a crib that never got slept in, clothes that never got warm still hanging with tags on. Three months where the piece that was supposed to complete a family left it in pieces instead.

Here she was an eighteen year old mother. She was healthy and strong, why couldn't the same be said for her baby. She got down out of bed in that very hospital gown and when her knees hit the cold floor she prayed. She knew she had no right to ask anything of the Lord. Who was she to question him and his plan? Still and yet she talked to him through the tears.

Tears of anger, joy, frustration and fear. What had she done in her life to deserve this? There were people every minute of each day in these very same hallways some that have even been in this very room who take home healthy babies. Why at twenty six weeks had her body betrayed her and expelled the very thing she felt was keeping her heart beating.

Now her heartbeat was lying in a makeshift human struggling to do the very same thing she, at this very moment was too, and that was to catch her breath. "Please God give me my miracle"

Every minute of every day seemed consumed with the hospital and doctors and machines beeping and alarms sounding. They were both prisioners of those walls. Instead of holding her new baby and soaking in the smell she instead got used to the smell of latex, the barrier that kept her from touching her baby's new skin.

""Summer" that's your name." "Summer Leigh" she would hum to little Summer as if to say I'll be right here, I would like to go but your love has made me stay. Under the tap and the tubes she could see her daughter was beautiful. As she heard the machine inflate she watched the tiny girl's chest rise.

Doctors came and went and in three months she had answers. These answers however were to questions she was afraid to ask. The doctors said there were problems but the extent of these would remain to be seen.

The small girl had been deprived of oxygen during birth. The exact amount of time remains in question but the best guess was a few minutes. The girl would never walk, she may not speak and though the list went on.

All she could do was look at her Summer. Sure sure she looked weak. The deck was surely stacked against her. She knew that her Summer had the will that she herself possessed. It could have been her faith that months earlier had her on her knees or just her "mother's intuition" but she refused to believe that her daughter was going to be anything less than God's amazing grace.

She sat like clockwork every day in that same old rocking chair and gazed upon her daughter. She touched her through gloved covered hands and sang to her over the machines. She knew the her prayers had been answered this whole time. She prayed for God to give her a miracle. This baby was a miracle, and they say miracles happen every day and she couldn't testify to that but on that day in late June she knew that God was looking out for her.

Tests would confirm that baby Summer had cerebral palsy. That was the bad news. The good news was that only meant the brain was affected in the region that is responsible for muscle control. The left side of Summer's body both arm and leg would be affected.

It would be three years and several surgeries and physical therapy appointments later but Summer did walk.

The good news was that intellectually Summer was normal she learned to talk and became a very gifted reader. By the time she was four she could write her name and just like the other little girls her age she learned to count and her colors and shapes.

There was a September day in 1994 there she stood with five year old Summer. She looked down at the little girl clutching tight to her backpack and lunchbox waiting anxiously on the bus that would carry her to school for the first time.

All at once the tears came rolling in as the bus came into veiw just around the corner and as stood there she stoked Summer's hair and she thought about that night five years ago. "She may not make it through the night" "she won't walk" "she won't talk" and she saw her newborn baby in the place where her little girl now stood. Her thoughts began to focus as the bus came to a stop. The other kids piled on but Summer held on to her hand.

"Mommy why do I have to do this?" She dropped to her knees and kissed her daughter and said so you can "GROW UP"