Dear Daniel,

Wow! You’re 2. Where did the last two years go? I intended to write you a letter on your first birthday and it didn’t happen so please count this as a two-fer.

It seems like another lifetime that I was dealing with this baby:

You were a surprise to all of us — nobody could have predicted that you would be a Holy Week baby instead of a Father’s Day baby. Your birth was definitely NOT how anyone would have wanted or predicted but you did make a fairly decent entrance.

In the two months that followed, you proved to be a force to be reckoned with. You didn’t have ANY brain bleeds, you got off your ventilator after about 3 weeks, and turned into a little cuddle bug.

You came home after only two months and proceeded to worm your way into things. The cats were not impressed by your arrival (and still aren’t truly impressed by you though they know that you can crawl about as fast as they can run and that they really shouldn’t leave their tails dangling down) but they dealt.

A year ago, we had just moved to Pomona.

Your grandma had a neighbor make you a cake and we all put frosting on our noses for a picture with it.

Over this past year, you’ve done all the things that you were supposed to do in your first year. You learned to sit up. You learned to crawl. You learned how to pet kitties (with help from your mizzle). You won the hearts of your physical and occupational therapists and all your grandparents’ neighbors.

At the beginning of last month, we almost lost you and I’m still recovering from the fear and pain of that. You are my little bear, my miracle, and my sunshine in the morning (even after waking us up multiple times in the night). I love you so much and the night they almost put you on ECMO was arguably one of the worst of my life. You hung on though and pulled through it, entwining yourself into the hearts of the PICU and Peds units at UC Davis Medical Center.

In the next month, I’m expecting you to mesh things together and start walking. This will greatly complicate my life as you’ll be fast but… it also means that my back will get a break as you’ll be able to to move on your own.

You are my blue-eyed little bear and I adore you. I look forward to another year with you.

Love,

Mommy.