Reblogged with permission from bubbygirl1972.wordpress.com.
I wondered how to start this. So after thinking about it and discarding various ideas, I decided just to start at the beginning. I was born in February 1972. There was a problem, however. It was way too early for me to be born. I think my weight was something like two pounds, one ounce. In essence I was pretty small. My lungs weren’t properly developed so apparently I had some trouble breathing. Doctors didn’t hold out much hope for me. They even suggested to my mother that she didn’t get attached because I probably wouldn’t make it. Every time I hear that, I have the same thought: “How can anyone advise a mother not to get attached to her child regardless of whether chances of survival are good or not?” There was only one doctor who thought I would make it. Apparently there was another baby with the same name as me, who sadly didn’t make it. My parents thought perhaps I wouldn’t, either. Someone, somewhere must have been praying though.
Since I’m not a ghost, and I’m here writing this blog, I guess that doctor was correct. He was our family doctor for some years.
After a long time, it was finally time. They were releasing me from the hospital. My mother must have been super excited. I had been in a humidity crib for about three months according to my mother.
I want you to come with me back to that time. Picture this if you will for a moment. My Italian mother walks in with baby clothes so she can dress me and finally bring me home. She would be planning a future for her fourth child who almost didn’t survive. Her youngest child, and only girl, is finally getting out of the hospital. She can finally hold her baby… Along comes a docto. He is actually a specialist and top of his field. He casually asks if she is ready to take her baby home. When she replies in the affirmative, he again casually asks, “You do know you are bringing a blind child home, don’t you?” Apparently this was the first my mother had heard of this. She was either not given any prior warning, or didn’t understand what they had said. Whatever the case, this was a major shock. Are you thinking that the doctor was pretty harsh? She was offered no counseling or anything. She didn’t know how to cope with it all, and went through a bad period in her life where she drank a lot and grieved. She still looked after me, though, and from what I’m told, I was never, ever neglected. God used one of the most unlikely people to help mum snap out of her grief and start looking for solutions.
A lady who also had my name and was, let us say, engaged in the oldest profession out there, came and spoke to my mum. In short she asked mum some questions. I am paraphrasing but the dialogue went something like this. “Look at her. She is a beautiful baby. What will happen to her if something happens to you? Who will look after her?”
This was apparently just what mum needed.
I grew up loved and, yes, very spoiled. I thrived, in spite of it all. Not only was I born into a loving family who were prepared to take care of me and love me no matter what, but I was able to beat the odds and live when everyone said I wouldn’t. Doctors said I probably wouldn’t walk until I was two, but with sound guidance from mum, she says I walked at 14 months. I apparently have always loved music and talked fairly early, both in English and Italian. I am still impossible to shut up apparently.
From the time I was able to understand this stuff, I think I realized, be it dimly, that God has had His hand on my life all my life. Yep, read that sentence again. In other words, looking back on my life, I can see God has been there as a lifelong companion. With God and the wonderful family He gave me, I was able to beat the odds and live a full life. I could continue writing, but this blog would get rather long. Stay tuned for more from me.