“Do you know how many weeks you were premature?”
“I was born at 29 weeks.”
“Wow.” I watched her face ponder my answer. It took a moment for her to respond, but she finally spoke. “For how old you are, that’s pretty incredible. Your parents are…lucky.”
When March 26th rolls around every year, I’m not quite certain how to react. Like the weather, I can’t decide if I should open myself up to the warmth of spring or retreat in the cruelty of winter. I’m not sure whether I should celebrate or mourn because….
March 26th, 1984 was a dark day.
My story started not with tears of joy after nine long months of anticipation, but rather quickly through an emergency C-Section in an over-heated operating room. I emerged into the world weighing just 3lbs. 2 oz.
It was a day when I just couldn’t get enough oxygen to my brain cells; a day that began my life-long journey with cerebral palsy.
The events of March 26th, 1984 served as an introduction to my life where many painful chapters followed:
Learning to Walk
Braces and Physical Therapy.
Chapters where there are no pictures because the journey became internal:
The origin of all of these experiences will celebrate their anniversary today, but if the painful chapters of my life are all I see when I think about the significance of March 26th, then I’ve lost the plot.
Today is the day when despite all the challenges that were before me; I was given the gift of life!
“Where, O death is your victory? Where, O death is your sting?” 1 Corinthians 15:55