Today you’re three years old and no matter how hard I try, I cant fight the memories I have of when we were told we would lose you. The statistics were laid before us and we prepared ourselves to live without you, to grieve and heal and share your legacy. But today, you’re here.
Many people in your life will define you by your disability, but if they take a moment to know you and learn from you, they realize a much more astute way to define you is by your uncanny ability to inspire, uplift, motivate. Countless people have told me that your story has given them the strength to carry on in adversity. “Rosie’s fighting for her life, so I can face this day,” I’ve heard. “I was sad about my circumstances, then I remembered Rosie,” they’ve said. “I was overwhelmed, crying at my desk, and a I saw a picture of Rosie’s smile and it brightened up my day.” I’m swept away by your incredible ability to change darkness to light in those you encounter.
You continue to work so hard to experience what most take for granted. I marvel every time you make strides in development. Evidence of healing power is what I see when you’re grabbing a toy, enjoying food, giggling with your brother. I don’t take it for granted and I know you don’t either.
You make our lives so much better. The perspective we have because of YOUR fight is one of the most valuable things God has given us. I wish you hadn’t been so sick before, but you were, and now we can remember that and be overcome with gratefulness for each day because YOU’RE HERE!
There will be more sickness. There will be more battles. But you have shown us again and again how to trust God to do what only He can do. After three years of being your mother I’m confident that your presence in my life has been the catalyst for radical transformation for the better. I can’t overstate how you’ve made me a better daughter to your Gigi, wife to your Dada, and servant of God. He has given me such a gift in you, dear heart.
Sweet Rose, child of God, it’s a privilege to raise you. That’s what I prayed when you were at your sickest. “God, give us the privilege of raising this child.” And He did. And you’re here. And you’re three.
With more love than I can possibly describe,