Giving thanks...and thanks...and thanks...

If you think hard enough, you can probably remember what you were doing last year, the day before Thanksgiving.  If you have a great memory, you may even be able to remember what you were feeling.

For me, that's easy.  Terror.  Heartbreak.  Panic.

For most of Lily's life, we'd known she had weak lungs.  Earlier in 2011, she was hospitalized with pneumonia.  My chest tightens to remember weeping in my car as her oxygen levels dropped, in spite of her doctor's efforts.  But, she recovered, and we went on with life.

Until last November.  In a matter of days, she became pale, listless, and struggled to breathe.  Again, pneumonia.  Unlike the first time, however, now her physicians were looking for causes.  We reeled as hypotheses whirled around us.  Cystic fibrosis.  AIDS.  Cancer.  As the days accumulated without her getting any better, so specialists also accumulated.  Pediatric infectious disease and pulmonology, it seemed everyone was consulting with our pediatrician, trying to find an answer.

And so, last year, everything hurt.  Every Christmas tree, every party, every song piped in to every store...all of it made me wonder.  Would this be our last time buying Christmas gifts for our littlest?  Would I get the chance to hang her stocking for another year?  Would our whole family sit around the table on Thanksgiving again?

No answers came.  Tests came back negative.  We continued to take shifts at home with her as the rest of the family carried on with Christmas concerts, church services, family get togethers.  Occasionally, Lily would cry over what she was missing out on, but usually the fevers, the listlessness, the sweats when she tried to walk would sap her of even the strength to care.

And then, after months of tests, months of sleepless nights and long days caring for our girl, she began to get better.  Slowly, she was able to walk without showing signs of shock.  She giggled again.  The fevers got farther and farther apart.  And in the pediatric infectious disease specialist's office, we received the sweetest of news.  "We believe Lily is a healthy little girl who just got very, very sick."

This year, worry has been an unwelcome companion.  A few nights up with her struggling to breathe has me wondering if the proverbial shoe will drop.  Having never found a cause, there are nights where she's padded into our room and curled up beside me and I find myself listening to the sweet sound of her breathing, smelling her warm head against my chest, and wonder if at some point we will be forced to look harder for an answer.

And yet, today, my heart is full.  Our little girl is in Kindergarten, learning to read and learning to be self controlled.  She dances and runs and exercises and hates bedtime.  The slap of her shoes on the wood floors has become a familiar sound as she comes sprinting through the shop at work.  And, perhaps the sweetest of endings, though she couldn't be in the Christmas pageant at church last year because she was so ill, this year...THIS year, she's Mary in her school pageant.

So today, this Thanksgiving, this holiday season, this year, this life...I am thankful.  I am thankful for this little girl that we fought so hard to bring into this world and that we fought so hard to keep in this world.  I'm thankful for dance parties and giggles and barely contained excitement over the simple reality of living.

With each breath, I remain thankful.  Thankful for the simple reality of living.