Dear Amaira, You are my miracle baby. After three years of countless shots, blood samples, drugs, and tears, I had you. Even when I was pregnant with you, doctors knew you were going to be a small baby. I guess stuffing myself with cookies and ice cream wasn't really helping your weight gain as I thought. You were born an itty bitty 5 pounds 9 ounces, and covered in hair. I first thought you were a monkey. I'm blaming that on the drugs.