The first day of my life, December 9th 1991

I was born on the prettiest winter day you can imagine. With His magic wand, God touched every tree, branch, and bush and created the most féérique landscape. You’ve seen the immaculate beauty of a morning snow over nature. Well, today, on December 9, 1991, it was better than snow. Every piece of God’s creation, down to every twig or blade of grass, was coated with ice that sparkled in the sun like diamonds. The sky was of a deep, clear blue. The air was crisp and pure. The sun was shining. Temperature was 16 below zero, the coldest day of that Austrian winter. The most gorgeous also.

I was 3 weeks early, 'cause I was determined not to miss Christmas. I didn’t care that my eyelashes hadn’t grown yet, nor my fingernails. They would eventually. Actually, I was almost born prematurely many times earlier.

I must have been the most desired baby the world has ever known. Or at least one of them. For 8 long consecutive years, my mom would cry each month when she found out she wasn’t pregnant. My parents are some of those people who love kids. They declared they wanted to have 10 when they got married. Nature decided otherwise, but they always managed to somehow surround themselves with children, fostering many others besides their own. I was number 3. According to doctors, I shouldn’t even have been conceived, as my mom was under heavy medication at the time, but seeing she had been sterile for 8 years, she didn’t bother to take contraceptives for the time of the treatment. My dad was also travelling constantly, and only came home one night that month, for her birthday. So if you want to call me a miracle baby, like my mom did, you can.

As you may guess, finding out she was finally expecting a child, after so many years, brought a mixture of elation and worry—utter happiness to be having another long-desired baby, and fear the child would come out wrong, suffer handicaps or any of the side-effects that medicine could cause. These mixed emotions filled my mom’s heart for 8 months. My mom worries a lot for her kids. But she also has strong faith. Her faith definitely sustains her. And something else, which we kids learned quickly: God always answers my mom’s prayers. Well, almost always. In her heart, my mom determined that no matter in what shape or form I came out, I was definitely God’s gift to her, and she would love and care for me no matter what. She went into labor several times during these 8 months, but her prayers kept me in, steadily growing inside her tummy.

Well, God must have figured 8 months was long enough. And like I said, I just didn’t want to miss Christmas. I came out perfect. Except for the eye lashes and nails. My whole family was so happy! My 8 yr old brother ran wild in the snow to celebrate. My 11 yr old sister couldn’t wait to see me come home. My parents were filled with praise and pure joy. My mom decided she would enjoy every moment of my life, every minute that she cared for me.