Dear Diary,

Things didn't turn out the way I imagined. When I was pregnant with my first son I always, for some reason, had an image play in my head of his first day of school. I envisioned a blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy standing next to me while I introduce him and myself to his kindergarten teacher in front of the classroom. I didn't expect that boy to have the curly-do he has now. I sure hope he still has it when he gets there, though.

Nowhere in my thoughts did I think he would be going to the clinic on his way to his kindergarten class. On his way to and from lunch. Before recess. Before PE. Never, did I think my child would need constant medical care in school or at home. I didn't plan on having "emergency" kits in the diaper bag and purses I carry.

My pregnancy didn't end in a usual way. The result was a baby that came before he was due and put in the NICU. Nobody expects something like that.

I didn't know that the only big milestones he would reach disease-free were to sit up on his own and crawl.

I didn't think about giving him a shot when he ate his babyfood. Or his first real meal. I would have never thought that a glass of milk would be so much trouble.

Doctor appointments were expected, but I didn't count on living from one scheduled appointment to the next.

I thought I could raise a child and do something right for once. I would have never thought that I can't raise him without a medical team.

On a different note, Diary, I didn't know how impressed, challenged, proud, and oh-so-very-loved I would be.

My first son was born with an old soul and it has served him well. He is wise beyond his years. Strong. Eager to make me happy. Fast to learn.

My second son looks like the one in my vision of the first day of school. My second son is the one I thought of when I was pregnant. He is smart too, maybe even beyond his years. He's a good boy, but.. lol... he is the one that every mom "hopes you have some day".

Diary, in my wildest dreams, I never thought I, Trish, little me, would have THREE boys! Up until the minute I heard my third son cry, I wouldn't have believed it. He was my second baby to start life early and in the NICU.

Still, I didn't realize how fragile life is until I saw him die and come back. I said it. He died. But he isn't dead. He is here and he is strong.

I have been in 4 ICUs for 2 children. I just realized what I.C.U. really means. It means, YOUR CHILD'S LIFE IS IN DANGER.

Dear Diary, I love my children just the way they are. All of them. Always. So don't take any of this the wrong way. If I had the choice to start over, I wouldn't.