It's less than a month before my Teresa's first birthday.
I haven't planned a thing for her first birthday party.
That's really odd for me. I LOVE hosting parties. But every time I think about Tessy's upcoming day, I get a little sick to my stomach.
On August 30, 2010, my daughter had a beautiful, holy birth.
On September 5, 2010, she started dive bombing towards death. I watched my daughter's condition freak out otherwise calm and hopeful pros at Holy Cross NICU. I was suddenly marked as the "mom who was going to lose her kid in a matter of hours."
And then she was fine.
Baptism? Prayer? Her godmother having a special in as a Bride of Christ?
I don't really know what flipped my baby girl 360 degrees around, but I'm beginning to think the awesome "medicine" part of her treatment at Holy Cross and Children's National Medical Center was almost the smallest part of Tessy's recovery. That was the tangible part we could see at the time-- but there was some powerful invisible stuff happening behind the scenes.
And I'm grateful.
But I'm also scared.
Those were super intense moments that I spent with my baby girl during her first week of life.
I'm not eager to go back there and go relive them.
In fact, I sort of want to pretend that my little girl is totally normal kid and brush past the birthday party thing all together. I'm want to whistle in the dark and pretend those scary alternative outcomes never could have happened.
But then, this was a "public miracle" of God. And there are all of these wonderful people who were a part of Tessy's journey towards healing--that I want to acknowledge and remember and celebrate her remarkable NICU journey together.
So what does God want me to do? Private family day? Big public party? Am I just supposed to let go of my vanity? What is the big deal if I do start to cry at odd moments during Tessy's party in front of a lot of people?