I have two daughters.
The first one came after the loss of three boy babies. I prayed, I promised God, I stopped doing things that were no longer important to me in a crazy attempt to have a live child. All I asked was for the baby to be healthy, happy and strong.
She came out perfect in every way.
She's a scientist now and I'm very proud of her.
When she was five months old, one morning, only one morning in her baby life, she went back to sleep after rattling the crib bars and another miracle happened. We got pregnant again in the quiet of that one morning.
I didn't think I could have a second miracle, but Someone was smiling at me.
Daughter #2 didn't open her eyes for me for a whole month...the month she was supposed to be born but surprised us early. She was perfect in every way, just early. And vastly different from the first baby. I couldn't go by anything that had happened with #1 to figure out how to handle #2.
This one was so interested in tactile sensations. She adored color and played for hours with toys that the other one eschewed. They did play together, but it was odd to watch. The younger one established the scenarios for their play and the older one followed along. The older one, who could read before she was two, would share books with her sister. I guess it was a mutual thing, this sharing, and sometimes it wasn't mutual.
The younger kid displayed talent in the ways I could thoroughly appreciate. Singing like an angel, artistic to the point where she can draw just about anything...just ask her.
She has drawn the covers for my newest books and novellas.
She is responsible for my new website. It is her gift to me and my stories.