Sixteen years ago today, my beautiful daughter, Randa, was born.  She was my first girl, my smallest baby (oh, yes! a teeny, tiny 8 lbs, 13 ozs), my only vaginal birth.  It was amazing.  My husband was there, just like with all of the others. But also, my Aunt Virginia was there. She really helped a lot. And she didn’t pass out at the sight of blood like my Uncle Tracy said she would.

Miss Randa was so different from her older brother. She got stuck in the birth canal and they had to use forceps to pull her out. The doctor managed to catch part of her eye and a nerve in her neck and she was born with a brachial palsy and looking like she’d gone a round with Tyson. She didn’t want to be held much and I thought it was because of having such a rough birth. But she was one of those “hold me while you nurse me and then let me be” kind of kids. We exercised her arm several times a day and in a month, the nerves reattached themselves (Thank God) and she could use her arm all by herself. She started walking at 8 months, weaned herself at 9 months and ran by 10 months.

The years have flown by and I look at this young woman standing in front of me who still loves “Shaun the Sheep” and making weasels from “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?” out of play dough. Having autistic tendencies has not stopped Randa from becoming bilingual, from teaching herself to make  pizza dough from scratch, from bossing her brothers and sister around. Nothing holds my girl back.

And I cannot be more grateful for this beautiful, intelligent, happy, funny, and awesome girl in my life. Randa was a gift to us from God. And I praise Him daily for blessing us with her. Happy birthday, Randa.