One year later

My dearest Lillian...my warrior, my wondergirl, my inspiration, my heart...

One year ago today, you faced a hardship that no seven month old should have to face. Your little body endured surgery, muscle spasms and castings. For three months, you weren't able to move anything but your arms and head...your freedom suddenly and inexplicably taken from you. It was heartbreaking for us because one of your favorite things to do was to move your little feet and legs...you were constantly moving them! But you took it all in stride, your little spirit shining through.

You adjusted to a new way of life, we all did. We were so proud of the strength and bravery you showed. It was because of you that in the midst of some of our darkest hours, we found strength.

Today, 365 days later, you are standing, walking, dancing and even spinning! And when you really get going, you are practically running!! You are so proud of yourself...the smile and sheer delight on your face warms my heart. I have never felt so proud in my life, pride for you my little lilybug. Pride because you live your life to the fullest no matter what the circumstance. Pride for your many accomplishments. Pride for your determination. Pride because you are my daughter.

To have you in our lives has been the most wonderfully rewarding experience. I never imagined, on the day you were born, that you would teach me how to really live. Everyday with you, I learn a little more about life. I am so incredibly thankful for you. And to God for gracing us with you. He chose us to be your parents and for you to be our daughter. Because of that, we are stronger, wiser, more patient, understanding, compassionate, thankful, trusting and loving. How wonderfully blessed we are to be a family.

Every night, right before bed, I sing "You Are My Sunshine" to you. And lately, you grab my face, pull it close and say "su-shine" so I sing it again and again. I want to sing those words to you forever because you are my sunshine, my shining light. I love you so very much.

Your mommy (or Sar as you like to call me these days)