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to be a girl, wig gling and even swallowing.
    “I fell in love with you then and there.” Isabelle's mother wiped at a tear. “I begged God to let you live. ‘Let me have my precious little girl.' ”
    Two days later, despite the doctor's efforts, Isabelle was born. Doctors were clear in their warning: at that stage of gestation, there was a strong chance the baby might die at birth. Isabelle was too fragile to undergo a regular birth and had to be delivered by C-section.
    “I was awake through the whole thing. I wanted to see you.” Lucy's voice broke. “Even if it was only for a few min utes. I did nothing but pray throughout the operation.”
    Twenty minutes after the surgery began, Isabelle Suzanne Sims was born. She was fourteen inches long and she wiggled furiously, trying to draw her first breath.
    “The doctor took one look at you and said, ‘She's a fighter.' ” Lucy uttered a sound that was part laugh, part sob. “After that I believed that somehow you'd survive. It was almost like watching a miracle take place before my eyes.”
    Isabelle's heart swelled with love as she pictured her mother, staring at her in those early moments and praying for a miracle. She felt her present disappointment ease as her mother resumed the story.
    “Even though you were long for such a young baby, you weighed just over one pound. The doctors were very worried. They immediately sent you to the neonatal intensive care unit and put you on a ventilator inside a small, sterile covered bassinette. Your skin was so translucent, we could see the capillaries underneath. You were red!”
    Three days later, when Lucy was released from the hos pital, Isabelle was still gaining ground.
    “I knew you were going to make it.” Lucy grinned through her tears. “God had made it clear that he had spe cial plans for you.”
    For the next three months, Isabelle had grown and gained ground in the hospital. A brief sponge bath in her bassinette and the holding of her tiny hand was all the con tact Lucy was allowed for weeks on end.
    “You would kick at the wires and tubing around you.” There was a distance in Lucy's eyes as she saw again the image of Isabelle at that age. “I was so proud of you. ‘Keep fighting, Isabelle, baby. Keep fighting.' That's what I told you every day we were together.”
    Isabelle and her mother had been surrounded by death during those three months. Because of its skilled staff, the hospital typically had sixty premature babies in its care at any given time. And one of those died every day while Is abelle struggled to survive.
    “They wrapped you in plastic wrap until your own skin began to grow. It was truly amazing to see you survive a lit tle more each day.”
    Finally, after four weeks, Lucy got to hold her daughter for the first time.
    “It was the most emotional five minutes of my life.”Fresh tears filled Lucy's eyes. “To have you in my arms, where you belonged. I couldn't do anything but thank God for the miracle of your life. You were working so hard, too, to fight off infections and lifethreatening illnesses. Every-one I knew was praying for you.”
    Isabelle felt cushioned in the blanket of love that had welcomed her into the world. She locked eyes with her mother and listened.
    When Isabelle's weight had climbed to five pounds, the doctors gave her permission to go home. At that point her body systems were also functioning on their own—a neces sity before a premature baby can leave the hospital.
    “The doctors told us the risks were far from over.” Lucy's voice grew softer. “Cerebral palsy was the primary concern. When a baby is premature, even a slight jarring motion can cause the brain to bleed. When that happens, cerebral palsy is the result.”
    In Isabelle's case, a sonogram had detected a low-grade bleed during her time in the hospital, so the Sims knew to look for cerebral palsy. Once she was home, a physical ther apist monitored her condition weekly.
    The months passed and