I was a preemie.
Born a month early and weighing in at 4 1/2 pounds.
My mom said it was like holding a Cornish game hen in the palm of your hand.
(That’s my bathing suit from back in the day.)
I stayed in the hospital for a little while and my mom came every day until she could finally take me home.
She always says I was little but mighty.
A big personality in a tiny body.
Pushed my way to the front of the group in every dance class.
Never met a stage I didn’t like.
A feisty little thing. Then and now.
A tough cookie.
I never take shit from anyone.
I’m a talker and so animated I actually exhaust myself sometimes.
I love hard and protect my own fiercely.
I have a mouth on me and I’m not afraid to use it.
I’m loyal and if you’re in my circle you are as good as family and I have your back.
I get things done.
So if you’re looking down at that preemie wondering if they’ll be strong enough, they will.
And they’ll do big things regardless of their physical size.
That preemie is a born fighter and will make their mark, whatever that means for them.
Have faith, sit back and get ready to marvel at the journey every step of the way.
Little but mighty.