We werenât thinking in years.
We were thinking in days. In stability. In ânothing went wrong today.â
And then, in a post-op appointment right around Christmas, a surgeon said something that quietly cracked everything open:
âMake sure you bring her by the clinic around her first birthday. We love to celebrate those.â
Just like thatâsomeone spoke a future into the room we hadnât allowed ourselves to touch, and were still terrified to hold.
This episode is about what happens when fragile hope stops being abstract⌠and starts looking like a milestone you might actually reach.
Itâs about what it feels like to plan a first birthday for a child you were never sure would get one. About almost sending invitations, and then finally doing it. About RSVPs that turn fear into something heavier: belief.
And itâs about what I almost never do.
I outsourced the balloon arch.
That might sound smallâbut it wasnât. I don't usually do "extra" like that, but I did. Because this wasnât extra. This was everything on the line.
We went all-in on a birthday we werenât sure we were allowed to expect.
And somehow⌠we got there.
A room full of people. A pink wheelchair that arrived just in time. A first birthday that became more real than fear.
And a reminder I keep coming back to:
Donât starve hope.
Buy a balloon arch.