One year ago today, I woke up at 4:40 am to my wife telling her nurse that she was having contractions. A doctor came in to examine her, and soon we knew that the twins were coming immediately, at 23 weeks, 5 days gestation. We spent the day worrying, and dreading the possibility of losing our children so close to viability.

    They surprised us that day - Timothy came into the world kicking, 3 hours later Leslie was less energetic but still fighting to live.

    The first days were hectic, with the NICU staff working hard to stabilize them and give them time to grow. We were welcomed by the other NICU parents - Chrissy & Rand and Kyla & Kellen, who were veterans by that point, and Holli & Seth, whose son was just a day older than the twins. We learned about ventilators and isolettes and IV pumps. We learned about ABCs and ROP and NEC and a dozen more terrifying acronyms. And on May 16, we learned that our little girl was dying. In spite of all the wondrous medicines and machines and people surrounding us, Leslie would never laugh or cry or hug her cousins or fight with her brother. That night we held her as she left this world.

    With our worst fears half-realized, we spent each day hovering by Timothy's bedside, worrying and hoping. He had a bad spell the week after Leslie died. He was experiencing extremely low blood pressure, and it seemed that every time we came in the NICU his BP was lower than the last. We waited by his side, wondering if we would be saying goodbye to him too. After what seemed like a month (but was really a couple of days), we came in to find those little red numbers had finally started to come up.

    After that, Timothy started to improve quickly. We had some more scares - a false alarm for NEC, and a truly terrifying incident where they had to pull his vent tube because he had outgrown it. All through this time, we relied on the support and love of our families and friends.

    When Timothy finally left the NICU after 121 days, he weighed in at 8 pounds, 2 ounces - over six times his birth weight. At home, we worried that he wasn't eating enough, then he gained over a pound in 11 days. We worried that he would need extra O2 for years, then he ditched the tank on Thanksgiving Day. We've worried about a lot of things - and so far, he has beaten the odds. Yesterday, he astonished the therapist with his progress - and today, I put up baby gates, because our little fighter is crawling, pulling himself to standing, and is ready to start walking any week now.

    There are too many people who deserve our thanks for me to list here - and I would surely miss someone. So I'll just thank my son, for being a stubborn little guy, for never giving up, and for making today a day of celebration in our home.