E.R....Chicago Hope....General Hospital....Grey's Anatomy....

Doesn't matter the show, the scene is the same.

The paddles.

There's always the scene with the paddles.

The victim lies outstretched on the stretcher. Doctors, nurses, technicians flock them on both sides. Orders are called out. People react. And everything happens so quickly. The doctor grabs the paddles and suddenly we hear...

"CLEAR!"

Nothing.

"CLEAR!"

Still. Nothing.

"We're losing her."

"Try one more time. Just once more."

"CLEAR!"

And suddenly...beep...beep...beep...beep.

And life begins again.

It was this scene I thought of last night as I lay in bed running my fingers through the hair of the beautiful little girl beside me. It's the night before her birthday and her 24 hour celebration begins with a "slumber party" between mom and dad in "mama's big bed." And because I am a sucker for the smell of Johnson and Johnson Bedtime Bath I readily give in to her request; after all, little does she know I love her laying beside me twice as much as she does (though let's be honest, I dare not tell her for fear it will render her completely unable to indulge me any longer.) And I pet her hair and I scratch her back and when I'm sure I hear her snoring I lean in and steal one million kisses. And I think of the scene. The paddles.

When Remi entered my world on this day, three years ago, I was that patient. There was no life left in my heart. None. My heart had stopped beating months before. Saying "goodbye" to one child rarely opens up your heart to say "hello" to another, it just shuts it down more. That's just the way the heart works. Sometimes when it hurts so badly for so long, it just stops altogether. That's the heart for ya.

Nothing.

Still. Nothing.

But suddenly...beep...beep...beep...beep.

Today in the car I told Remi the story of her birth and I told it in all of it's fairy tale splendor. As with any child, the stories you tell Remi must be filled with four things: tears, laughter, a princess and Scooby-Doo. So I obliged. And I told the story of the sad girl, who could only cry, until an angel came to her door one day and said, "Sweetie, don't cry anymore. I have a baby for you. I am going to take you to this baby who will dry your tears and make you laugh again." And as I recited the story, that my heart has told a thousand times before, she listened to every last stutter and breath. She clung to every word.

So I made every word come to life.

If she did it for me, it's the least I can do for her.

Happy Birthday, Remi Hope.

Love,

Mama

P.S.

God is sweet. All the time.

All the time. God is sweet.