May 2, 2005

Dear Mr. Bush,

"I don't know how I can ever thank you enough," I said, tears streaming down my face, as we said goodbye to our midwife, whose brief examination of Janice was the last hurdle before we could go home today. "There were so many times on Friday night that I worried about what would happen, and all I could do was know that you were there and that I trusted you completely," I continued, fighting a losing battle to regain my composure. "I can't think of anything I can ever do to repay you for what you've given me: a family."

"Dan," our midwife responded, her own gentle demeanor melting into tears, "all you need to do is raise your son to be a good person the best way you know how, that's enough." And we hugged, standing over my tiny, fragile son's bassinet, Janice crying on the bed next to us, knowing that in just a few hours we'd be driving back to our home, safe and secure thanks to the incredible work and compassion of this one woman.

To Kathy,



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