Tomorrow you’ll be three weeks old. I’m still in awe that you’re even here. You made it so far. We made it so far. The 9 months was not easy on either of us. I had many emergency room trips and hospital stays, just to make sure you and I were both safe. I just wanted you safe. At 5 weeks I had a nurse tell me an abortion was the best thing for my health, and carrying a child would be too much on my body. I was scared, but I didn’t care what happened to me, because you were a beautiful baby planned for this world. The first 10 weeks they said multiple times your life would more than likely end in a miscarriage. But you made it, week after week. I made the decision to go off my medications for the first 16 weeks of the pregnancy. It was a decision that was easy to make, because I wanted you to have the best chance at growing strong, but it wasn’t easy on my body. At 19 weeks they told us you had cysts on your brain that could be a part of something fatal. By 23 weeks the cysts were gone. At 35 weeks we noticed your growth had slowed down. Each week dropping more and more. At 39 weeks you came into the world-perfect. We both made it on the other side, and I’m incredibly grateful. You’re fearfully and wonderfully made. You’re my miracle.