Then ...

One year ago, there was a family waiting for a baby ...

This baby, to be precise. But this baby was sick - again - with Necrotizing Enterocolitis, an illness as horrible as it sounds.

This little girl was 5 1/2 months old, and weighed a mere 6 lbs. 2 oz. She was emaciated, because, each time the nasty NEC reared its ugly head, the docs took away her food. Her face was compressed from the pressure of the ventilator, which was a presence in her life for many, many months. She was so lethargic from lack of calories that she could barely open her eyes, and could not hold her head up. And, boy, was she yellow. An ugly yellow, like a jar of Gulden's Mustard had spilled and, as it dried, crusted over her body. Her liver was severely damaged, perhaps beyond repair, some surmissed. Her intestines? Who knew. There was no definitive way to know unless we agreed to have the surgeons take them out, place them on a table, and take a closer look. But, that, of course, was no guarantee of anything, since the surgeons could not see inside the walls, where the damage would most likely be found.

So the little girl lay in the hospital, far, far away from her mommy. She was tied to a pole, tubes in her chest, buzzers going off around her, other little ones with other illnesses lay sick - some dying - around her. And the docs, well, some of the docs, were not too kind about her prognosis. "Swiss cheese for brains" is one of my personal favorites. Talk about bed-side manners.

But, at a home far, far away, there was a team of therapists ...