My baby girl is SEVEN

So there I was, lying on the operating table at Abilene Regional Medical Center.

And I had a secret.

I had wanted a girl. So badly. For nine months. And I hadn't told a soul.

We had decided not to find out the sex of the baby. Really, I told everyone, I'll be happy with whatever we have. And I would have been.

But I really, really wanted a girl.

The pregnancy was not easy. In fact, I still don't like thinking about it. I had a devastating, debilitating condition known as hyperemesis gravidarum. I was deathly ill for 15 weeks. My illness was so severe that it has permanently changed the way I think about and vote on abortion issues.

So you can imagine, after having come through all that, and lying on the operating table, that I would have been happy to have any baby. And I would have been.

But, oh, how I wanted a girl.

The surgery was weird. It didn't hurt, but I could feel it. (You C-section vets will know what I mean.) There were hands and arms inside my abdominal cavity and it felt weird. I was done with this. I tried to get Chad's attention to tell him that I was about to have a complete panic attack, but his eyes were focused on what was going on at the other end of the table.

So I closed my eyes -- hoping that if I concentrated hard enough, that I could somehow float far, far away from this.

Then a doctor's voice broke through my darkness. "You have a little girl!"

My eyes popped open. Did he say what I thought he said? I looked at Chad, whose eyes were still fixed at the end of the table. I knew he could see the baby.

"Yep! It's a girl!"

Then I knew it was true. My head sank back down on the pillow and tears of joy and relief and disbelief -- but mostly joy -- silently poured out of my eyes.

Sometimes life's most joy-filled moments are celebrated in complete silence. That was one of them. God of wonders beyond our galaxy. He had given me a little girl.