Chloe Louise, one year post-op.

So, this morning I woke up and it was like every other morning. I got up, made coffee, got little people dressed for school, made more coffee... and then I looked at the date, and realized it was September 29. I realized that one year ago, we turned our baby girl over to the doctors and let them fix her head. I had forgotten. Forgotten that today was the day, sort of forgotten that whole crazy time. But when I remembered, it knocked me down onto my behind, and made me sit there for a few minutes.

A year ago, I woke up (although "woke up" usually indicates that a person has slept...) at 3:30 in the morning to nurse my baby for the last time before her surgery, praying that she wouldn't scream the whole way to the hospital. We drove, anxious and quiet, an hour to the hospital. We sat. We waited. We checked her in, we changed her into an impossibly tiny hospital gown. I kept thinking to myself that if she freaked out and screamed, I'd just shut down. Or get hysterical. Or something. I just couldn't do it. It seemed like she got it, because she was fine. When they came to get her, our nurse was this totally tough, really BIG man. But he took my baby girl so gently, cradled her with his giant hands, he patted her back, and he told us she would be fine. Of course, I didn't believe him and I cried my eyes out.

But she came back. We got her back, and she was fine, better, even. We spent the week watching her so closely, jumping at every sigh or cough, sleeping little (thanks to the AWESOME cots) and praying much. Did I mention that we made some friends?

And now, we can't imagine life without her. We live for her baby laughs, her silly nose crinkles, her funny sense of humor, and even for the times when we ask her to do something and she looks us right in the eyes and calmly says "no." We do have a few side effects. We think her head may possibly be a magnet for bonks. So. Many. Bonks. It's like the floor jumps up to hit her, sometimes. And of course, we totally freak out react perfectly calmly every. single. time. The other lasting side effect? Well, this one's for me. Every time I see, hear, or read about a family having to send their small child off for a surgical procedure? Even something so terrifying as a tonsillectomy? Instant crying. And I mean INSTANT. CRYING. Not sniffling, not a single teardrop. We're talking ugly, unexpected, undignified WEEPING, people. And while it's happening, I'm usually like "no really, I'm okay. It's just the surgery.." while laughing at what a retard I am. And crying. Brothers and Sisters last season? Get out. Grey's Anatomy? Killer. Seriously, I just have to stop watching television. Or the news. Or reading. At all.

Anyhow.

The amazing part about the whole thing is that we forgot. Life was just going, and Chloe was so amazing, and funny and smart and silly and pretty and we forgot that today was the one year anniversary of all that fear and hope and every other emotion mixed in.

Isn't life good?