I heard about Madeline Spohr on my friend Danielle's blog. It was hard to read about Madeline. She had just passed away. And she was a toddler. A baby, really.
She was born premature. And I found her blog just about the same time my close friend Ann was placed on bed rest. At 30-ish weeks. With her first child. The bed rest was at home at first. And it was sort of coincidental that I learned of her plight as it happened because we were supposed to have lunch together that day. And then the bed rest happened, so lunch was canceled. Then, at 32 weeks they sent Ann to the hospital. Where she was to stay until the arrival of her child. The life within her kicking and wiggling. Growing. But then the baby couldn't wait. He had to retreat from the safety of her womb into this big, cold world. His arrival was welcomed by Ann's large, extended family-- many of whom waited around in the hospital, hoping for a glimpse of this new life as he was wheeled through hospital hallways into the ICU. He was born breathing on his own. He is gaining weight. He is doing well. And so is she. And I'm glad. Especially after reading about Madeline.
I read about Madeline before Cole's arrival. That is his name -- Ann's baby's name. And just before he took his first breath, Madeline took her last one. And it broke her mother's heart. It touched the hearts of many. Made us stop breathing. At least momentarily. And still her mother blogs. If you have the heart for it, you can follow the story here: http://www.thespohrsaremultiplying.com/.
Today, as I read Heather's words, the tears fell from my eyes.
It was a reminder of how precious life is.
How delicate a balance we try to live.
It was a reminder of what really matters.
A reminder of how lucky I am.
Each day I am lucky. Casey and Marcie make it so.