My life came to a sudden, complete stop on Saturday, December 5th, 1998. It wasn't suppose to happen this way. This wasn't the way I planned it.

It started on a Saturday in December. My husband and I were planning on getting a Christmas tree, but I was feeling pretty crummy. I had lower back pain most of the day, and just feeling run down and tired. I gave my doctor a call. She told me to lay on my side, and watch the clock. That's when I started to realize something wasn't quite right. The ache was fairly regular–exactly six minutes apart–but I was only in my 23rd week of pregnancy.

Over to the hospital we went where my doctor happened to be on call. She started me on an IV of magnesium and then answered my question of "what is this for?" She was trying to stop my labor. "I'm in labor?!" A short time later, I found myself in the Trendelenburg Position in a very cold room where Joe joined me. We were speechless and in complete disbelief.

That Monday, my water broke when I sneezed. I couldn't believe it?a simple sneeze. My doctor remained calm and didn't seem concerned.

It wasn't until Wednesday, December 9th, that things turned quickly. I felt as if I was having gas cramps. It turns out I was in labor again! They pushed some needles in my back and told me to relax. Yea, right!

They wanted to prep me for an emergency C-section, but one glance at the ultrasound told them it was too late for that. Twenty minutes later my Olivija was born ? breech no less. After a moment's glance at her, they took her away. Joe stood locked in the doorway, not knowing where he was most needed. His eyes asked and my nod told him that his place was at Olivija's side. I was completely lost in grief, having no way of knowing what they were doing, if she was alive, or if I would ever see her again.

An eternity later, I was taken in a wheelchair to the resuscitation room and there she was ? all 1 lb. 7 ozs. of her. Her arms and legs strapped to the table, tubes down her throat, coming out her belly, stuck in her arms.

We were told she probably wouldn't live ? that she was on the "edge of viability." But nobody told us what that meant. So we asked for a 1% chance of hope. They couldn't give it to us.

We didn't want her to die alone, so we stayed by her side. And then we waited. She lived through the first day and night, and we felt blessed to have her for that one day. And then we waited some more.

Olivija continued to fight through the first week, but we didn't want to get our hopes up. And so we waited.

At 9 days old, Olivija underwent heart surgery. She was down to 1 lb. 3 ozs. and didn't stand a chance of surviving the surgery. So we waited. She made it through, and we felt blessed to have her for those nine days.

Day-by-day, week-by-week, she fought on. We watched her through the pneumothorax, the brain bleeds, the hourly taking of blood from her heel. Her eyes were still fused shut and the flap of skin for an ear still stuck to her head. Her skin was so thin that bandages were pain. Her lungs were forced open and shut with a machine doing her breathing. To help with her lung development, she was given surfactant therapy ? a chemical protein that kept her lungs from collapsing.

We talked to her constantly about how strong she was, how if she got too tired it was okay with us if she had to go, how we would miss her and love her even still. We felt blessed that she was our child and the time she had given us. And we continued to wait.

During those weeks, we tried hard not to read the monitors but to read her. Doctors told us if she made it she would more than likely be mentally challenged, maybe blind, maybe deaf, maybe unable to feed herself, maybe crippled. It wouldn?t matter. We knew we would do whatever it took because she was our child and we were blessed.

And we waited. For more than three months we waited for the bad news. We were on an emotional roller coaster the entire time. Then one day the doctor said, "when you take her home"...not "if", but "when"! It was then that I realized Olivija Winter Strandjord was a miracle. It didn't matter what disabilities she might have, or what the future would bring her and us. We would love her regardless because she was our blessing, our gift.

On March 5th, 1999, weighing in at a little under 5 pounds, on oxygen and a heart monitor, Olivija Winter Strandjord came home ? a month before her original due date. At last, the waiting was over.

We are blessed to spend every day living, not waiting, with a beautiful, laughing, miracle of love ? Olivija.

Thanks to the work of the March of Dimes, the great care delivered by her doctors and nurses, and her determined will to live, Olivija is now enjoying her time in kindergarten and learning to read. The only current effects of her premature birth are a mild form of Cerebral Palsy and some eye alignment and equal vision challenges. She may or may not face unknown social and physical development issues in the future. It's too early to tell. In the meantime, she's enjoying being the older sibling to her little sister, Sofia Grace.