Your first name means song and by definition your middle name is a short story. Story, the word itself, was one of my name contenders but Fable fit you better. I knew that before I knew you, back when there was only hope for you. You are here now and that hope has stuck, too. You are the song and the story that have changed our lives so very much. There is renewal in hearing your brother exclaim "good morning, sis" over your video monitor and there is restoration in the smile you flash in return. You are a soft, poetic soul and simultaneously a powerhouse of strength and determination. I'm frequently stopped so that passerby can admire your beauty and charm, and then comment on how they thought you were much younger than you are. They see tiny but me? I know better. I see fierceness and a spirit so big that you are capable of so much more than you will ever know.
Two days a week, your brother goes to school. This is an adjustment for me, as I learn to begin two days a week without posing the question "Ethan, what would you like to do today?" It is also an adjustment for me in getting to know you in the way that I got to know your brother during his infancy. Those tired mornings sitting on a rug, singing and holding and reading and playing peek-a-boo. Trying to get to know your quirks and likes and favorite songs as I did with your brother half a decade ago. And at nap time, you grow tired and nestle your head in the crook of my arm and we rock slowly on your bedroom rug until you are asleep. And with each gentle breath you take, you are breathing life back into my own lungs.