The end of natality; beginning of integers

Olivia is One.

October 13, 2007

She's going in fighting.

Obviously we're proud of this kid. And feel incredibly fortunate to live in a time and place where this sort of survival rate is relatively commonplace. When we are worrying about what kind of food she gets to eat, the moisture content of the heat in her bedroom, the color of the clothes she gets to wear, she and we are indeed fortunate. Melissa and I thank those family and friends reading this for helping us get her to this point. We are sheepishly grateful for all we have in you and Olivia and each other.

She's had The Croup over her birthday. Nice gift. Lousy sleep, surly at times, rasping cough. And yet she was also frequently in a good mood. I hope that this happy demeanor is the warp of her cloth in life. It is a gift in itself, and I appreciate this opportunity to see it, even in adversity. Last night I needed to rock her at my shoulder to coax sleep back into her cough-wracked little body and rattled thoughts. When I hefted her to my shoulder, she whispered, "Daddy", then started sleep breathing. I don't know what I did to deserve it, and frequent late night rockings do not seem a full enough explanation for that little whisper. I can't believe that the few things I've done for her in her short life could rate her calling me by that honored title. I will continue to try to live up to that name. I feel sanded smooth by my daughter. She is polishing me; sometimes brushing against my grain; finding ways to shape she and me together into a sturdy, functioning, beautiful thing that will be passed on through our family.