Dear Bayla

Dear Bayla,

Today you are one year old.

All children are miracles, but you are even more so. You'll hear the story many times in your life, but the odds were stacked against you when your amniotic sac ruptured at 22 weeks in Mommy's tummy, when you were just the size of a head of cabbage. We didn't know it at the time, but when this happens, there's only a 1 in 100 chance of you being born alive. We didn't know it at the time because the doctors wouldn't tell us-- it was that bad. We lived in fear that I would become infected, that you would be born too early to make it, that we would lose not 1 but 2 baby girls. You didn't have any fluid, so you couldn't move around. I was terrified to lie down on my left side because I didn't want you to be under more stress. But the presence of your sister protected you from my unforgiving organs, and you grew and thrived somehow. And you, and Harper, and my immune system stayed strong until 34 weeks, which had been our best-case scenario, and you were born at 1:18 p.m. during an uneventful C-section.

We'd been prepared for all kinds of things before you were born. You might be deformed from not having had fluid. You might not be able to breathe on your own because you had no room or fluid in which to practice. Your hands and feet might have turned in on themselves. But when you were born, you had a smooshy head that corrected itself within a few months, and your neck was twisted (torticollis) and required physical therapy for 11 months...and that was it. You were perfect. You came out looking like such a Greenspan. And you were teeny tiny. I loved you and was so proud of you from the very first second.

I've watched you closely this year, stretched your neck to correct your torticollis while you screamed bloody murder in protest, swaddled you tightly so you'd get some rest, fed you thousands of bottles, wiped your tushie-- sometimes very carefully because of your delicate skin and related terrible diaper rashes-- and loved you. You are easy with a smile and a laugh, you are so cute, you are snuggly and affectionate, and you are still perfect. And you are feisty. So feisty. I've said that somewhere in the universe, your Bubbe Beverly is laughing because she knows what's coming. You're very much like me, and I know I'm in trouble. But that fight, that passion...that's what kept you forming and developing when my body could barely protect you. And so that's my favorite thing about you.

Being a twin is a special, special thing. You will always have someone to watch your back, to whisper secrets with in the night, to be your true other half. You are part of a very special match, but you are always Bayla.

I love being your Mama. You were meant to be mine. I couldn't live without you, your sister, and your brother. I can't wait to see you walk, and talk, and tantrum, and grow curly hair, and play with your sister, and hold your own with your brother, and learn to read, and learn Hebrew, and rock your life. Your life-- the life that you fought for, that your sister shares with you, that has so much promise and potential.

I love you forever, my sweet, snuggly Baby A.
Mama