On the eve of her fifth birthday, I kneel quietly next to her bed and watch the slow rise and fall of her chest, remembering all the times they had to resuscitate her and counting my blessings. Then I pluck three stuffed animals, six books about a sunglasses-wearing cat, one toy boat and a miniature pumpkin out of the tangle of her sheets and tuck them back up around her shoulders before brushing a kiss across her forehead. This is my everyday Thanksgiving. Five years ago, I gave birth to our first child on an ordinary November day -- except for the fact...
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