In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit

The night before Mary's first surgery, our pastor came and baptised her. It was not at all how I pictured any daughter of mine being christened. There was no font, first of all. And no gown. My parents were there, and my younger sister. Charlie and Sam were there, too. We stood around a NICU bed, staring at a tiny baby, who I felt I didn't even really know. Yet, my heart was breaking at the thought of anything happening to her. She was so tiny. My dad wanted to take a picture of her, but I asked him not to - I didn't want to remember her like that. Little did I know that I would forever have the image of her hooked up to so many machines, burned in my memory. At one point, during the 5 minute rites, Mary stopped breathing. Her little chest stopped moving and then the alarms went off. The nurses had stepped aside to give us some privacy, but when the dinging started, they came back over. I heard someone ask, "Do they usually bag her?" And I was like, "Yes!" while thinking, why don't you know this already???? I told my mom to take Charlie and Sam around the curtain, so they wouldn't be scared. The nurses came, 'bagged' her, Mary started breathing, and we slowly resumed her baptism. The whole thing, even with emergency interruptions, took less than 10 minutes.

Last night, at the Great Vigil of Easter, we presented Mary to our church. Along with the baptisms and new members, Mary was chrismated. Our pastor also prayed a blessing for Mary's upcoming surgery at that time.

Today I was speaking with the wife of the pastor who baptised Mary in the hospital, and she asked if the presentation made me happy. I felt beyond happy last night. I felt blessed.

As you can see, she got her gown. And so much more. Here she is with her Godparents and big brothers.