“My best day was one I don’t even remember. It was March 10, 1972. I was a little early, but then again, I’m always early. On this particular day I was 11 weeks early.
I was a mere 2.5 pounds in a time when survival was slim to none. I was rushed from Conroe, TX to the children’s hospital in Houston. When my father saw me for the first time I was screaming at the top of my little lungs. He said to the nurse “She’s going to be just fine.” As it turns out, he was right.
I never take anyone or anything for granted. I work hard, play hard, love deeply and enjoy life. I intend to make it count!”
-Jessica M, Calendars.com, 16 years