She was a beautiful child. Her head was perfectly shaped… unlike any newborn child I had ever seen. Not that I had seen very many in my fifteen years of life. But even at my young age, I knew this little girl was exceptionally beautiful… a very special child indeed. It is so hard to comprehend… how can a little body look so perfect on the outside while her insides are threatening her life?

Counting her little toes and fingers; yes! She has ten of each! Her brown eyes.. Will they stay brown like her father’s, or will they turn green like her mother’s?

These are the things we should be discussing.. These are the thoughts that we should dwell on as we hold the sweet baby and sing her lullabies; lingering by her bed a little longer before we turn out the light. What a beautiful picture it would make… Only dreams… for now.

For now the plans must be made: the decisions must be carefully decided. Surgery may paralyze her, but to not have it would be death within the year. Of course it must be done. Her kidney is enlarged: Must I sign for that surgery too? How difficult it is to see my small daughter. My beautiful, fragile child, with tubes and bandages, drugged and still… resting in her hospital bed.

How can a fifteen year old girl make these decisions? How can I bear it? My tiny baby going under the knife…

The most perfect little girl I had ever seen… even if I am only fifteen…