It was the day of Eva’s major intestinal surgery. Five days after birth. I had just spent my first night at home, and came racing back up early next morning to see her. Since it was Saturday, the hospital was quiet, and I remember pausing to soak in the feeling of hope this sunrise brought. I just knew she was going to make it out of that surgery okay, I didn’t doubt it. The unknown was something I had become familiar with. At that moment I had accepted our life with her was going to be complicated, and limited, but I truly trusted all would work out as it was intended to. I had faith. And she DID come out of surgery perfectly. I couldn’t believe how awake she was later on, flooded with pain meds. Trusting and believing we were doing our very best for Eva gave me reason to bound down the freeway, race through the hospital doors, and still pause to breathe in a symbol of hope from the heavens. Since Eva was here I now rise a little earlier so I can catch the sun rise because she taught me how precious each one is.