You have Taught Me
by Anne Maclellan March 1998

You have taught me patience
to rejoice in small gains which others take for granted.
You have taught me tolerance
to accept that your perspective is different
and deserves respect.
You have taught me courage
to fight for you when no one else will.
You have taught me endurance
to go on when I feel I can't any more.
You have taught me humility
to accept when I can't make things better
but can only be here for you.
You have taught me to love
at a deeper level than I ever thought possible

"You have taught me patience"
I had to wait for a full 18 weeks to find out your exact diagnosis.  This required a level of patience I didn't even think I had.
"to rejoice in small gains which others take for granted."
small gains for us means in your weight and height.  You are small, everyone has to comment on it, and not necessarily in the nicest way.  They seem to think we are starving you.  You sometimes only gain 1-2 oz a week, while other babies are gaining 1/4 to a 1/2 pound.  You are tiny, but mighty.  You are in the 0 percentile for weight and 1 for height at 4 months.  At least you are getting good use out of your clothes!  Some people take the growth of a baby for granted... I rejoice at each small ounce bigger you are, at each millimeter longer you get.
"You have taught me tolerance..."
Tolerance... tolerance for the hours and hours of fussy, colicky crying, and the hours I begged for you to eat more than an ounce at a time. 
"You have taught me courage to fight for you when no one else will."
 I fought for you before you were born. I didn't have an amnio because even though the miscarriage risk is small, it is still real,and I don't play odds well.
I fought the neurosurgeon for an answer after you were born. He didn't seem to care we were waiting for an answer. I was never so glad when we were told we wouldn't be needing his assistance.
I fought for you when you were projectile vomiting twice a day, and no doctor seemed concerned.  I knew your little tummy was having issues. 
I fight for you daily... to bring you the best medical care available, and the happiest life possible.
"You have taught me endurance to go on when I feel I can't any more."
Some days... maybe more like a lot of days... I feel at the end of my rope.  When I have a full load of work, and the garage door doesn't open and the stove is broken, when both you and your brother are sick, and I haven't showered in 3 days... when you cry and cry and cry.  I wonder how much longer I can do it.  Then I think about how strong you were before you were even born.  How you showed amazing endurance then and every day since!  You are strong, you make me stronger.
"You have taught me humility to accept when I can't make things better but can only be here for you."
There is so much I cannot change with and for you.  I cannot get your missing chromosome back, I can advocate for you, but I can't change the essence of your make up.  And even though I initially wanted to, now I accept it.  I don't want it back, because then you wouldn't be you.  And I love who you are... all of it. 
"You have taught me to love at a deeper level than I ever thought possible"
Before I ever met you (except on an ultrasound screen), I loved you.  I tried for many weeks, after our devastating ultrasound to detach myself from you even though you were living inside of me.  I wanted to stop loving you, because I didn't want to hurt if you died.  I tried to ignore your kicks and punches.  I wanted to stop loving you, and the more I tried, the more I loved you.  I hold you now, I smell your little head, with its gorgeous little swirl of a curl right on top, and I am so grateful you are here, and the past year seems like a distant nightmare!