Within moments of her first breath of life and her wailing garbled cry, my newborn daughter went into cardiac arrest. My husband stood in front of me, blocking my view as he watched the neo-natal care team perform baby CPR. I had no idea my baby’s heart had stopped. I only knew she stopped crying and I remember calling out, “what’s wrong with my baby?”

Seconds later I heard the wail I longed to hear. My baby girl was ok. The nurse didn’t bother to clean her up. She wrapped my baby in a warm blanket and placed her in my arms. My Christina.

Twenty-two and a half years ago my baby girl had a near death experience just as she was being born. I wonder. Did her life flash in front of her? What did she feel? What did she experience? Was she in pain? Did she know how much she was already loved?

For the first three or four months, Christina was a colicky baby, a fussy eater, and when she did sleep, it wasn’t for very long. Mama didn’t sleep much those first few months!

In tune with my baby, I discovered she loved movement and music. So on those sleepless, crabby nights, I’d strap her into her car seat, turn up Bonnie Raitt, and drive around the neighborhood until she fell asleep.

By the time she was six months old, Christina moved out of her cranky phase and into her “let’s spike a 104 degree fever once a month for a year” phase. We were regulars at the Keesler Air Force Base Medical Center. I knew the emergency room staff by first names. Christina’s fevers spiked like clock work. And, as mysteriously as they appeared, they disappeared by the time she was eighteen months old.

Mama got a six month break for good behavior.

Right before she turned two, Christina had a lymph node infection. It was pretty serious. I was at school when my husband took her to the emergency room. He left me a note, “Don’t worry. At the ER with Christina.” Don’t worry…right. I drove to the ER with the note still in my hand. Christina looked like she had a golf ball on the side of neck. The doctors kept measuring the golf ball, trying to decide if they should admit her or not. Finally, they sent us home with three bottles of very expensive antibiotics.

With the golf ball infection cleared up, Christina celebrated her second birthday by riding her three-wheeler down fourteen steps. Where was I? Flying down those fourteen steps right behind her. Christina stood up right away and let out the most blood curling banshee scream I’ve ever heard. I scooped her up, went into the kitchen, grabbed a bag of ice, called my husband and said, “meet me at the ER.”

Seven hours later we were home. No concussion, no brain swelling. We nicknamed Christina “Evel Kneivel.”

At three years of age, Christina ate a full bottle of Flintstones vitamins with IRON. She thought they were a snack. Child proof caps? The makers of those things never met Christina. IPACAC, Charcoal, and a ten hour stay in ER until her iron levels went from “lethal” to “normal.”

At four years of age, I snapped a photo of my daredevil trying to scale the pantry shelves. Maple Syrup resided at the top and by golly, Christina wanted it and she was going to get it.

Christina at five (1992), Mama’s to the left and big sis Jessica (eight) is on the right

A few years later, we moved to Germany. She was seven. I took her to the commissary and we rode our bikes because our vehicle was still making its way over on the slow boat. After shopping and with a box of cereal in her backpack and milk and bread in mine, we started home. At the top of the hill I stopped to adjust my pack. Christina took off with a “weeeeeee” and down the hill she pedaled.

Seconds later I heard that same blood curling banshee scream I heard when she was two. Down the hill I flew, skidding to a stop in the middle of the street. Christina held her chin and blood splurted between her fingers. I moved her hand to get a look at her chin. It was pretty ugly. I placed my hand on the wound and watched as her blood ran down my arm and dripped off my elbow.

Luckily, someone pulled into their apartment parking spot and saw the mini-disaster. The kind woman rushed us upstairs to her apartment so we could get a better look. She called the Patch Barracks emergency room and they told us to get to the nearest German hospital. The kind stranger then loaded us up in her car and drove us to Robert Bosch Hospital, a few blocks from where we lived.

Christina was seen right away. The ER doctor asked me what had happened. I didn’t see what happened but listened as Christina told him how she crashed. “I rode as fast as I could down the hill, but there was a speed bump…and I tried to go between the speed bump and the curb.”

The speed bump won.

Several hours and several stitches later, we went home.

At eight years of age, Christina learned how to ski in the German Alps. She took to snow and mountains like a duck takes to water. At ten, she took her first snowboarding lesson in the mountains of Santa Fe, New Mexico…with me. All I heard was, “I’m tired…I’m hungry…I’m cold….”

Get me off the mountain! Christina’s whining picked away at my last nerve. Snowboarding didn’t come easy to me. I learned how to fall down the mountain and not too gracefully! By the time I made it to the bottom, I was done. Get me to the lodge for a nice hot toddy. I let Christina spend the next three hours on the side of the mountain by herself and the snowboard instructor.

Christina learned how to snowboard in one afternoon. I got frustrated and gave up.

For the last twelve years, my daughter has lived her passion. In middle school and high school she belonged to the ski and snowboard club. She was the only girl who snowboarded. I got used to dropping her off at oh dark thirty on Saturday mornings so she could shred on Mt. Snow, Loon, Waterville Valley, and Mt. Sunapee. My daughter was born to live on the side of a mountain where fresh powder falls on a regular nightly schedule.

Christina at the top of her world in Vail, Colorado

By the time she was old enough to work, Christina landed a gig at NOTB – North of the Border – a seasonal snowboard shop in Salem, NH. She made connections. She worked with industry reps. She demo’d boards for Rome. And every winter season, she bought her Threedom Pass for three mountains in New Hampshire.

In the summer of 2008, Vail Resorts came to Boston, MA. Christina decided to interview with them. Her older sister, Jessica, had already flown the coop and was living in Spain, so Christina took a page from her big sis. She was in love with the idea of living, working, and playing in Vail, Colorado. Christina was one of only four direct hires.

Two months later and right before her twenty-first birthday, Christina moved to Vail.

Two years later (and a brief detour in Lafayette, LA) Christina decided she wanted to relocate to Lake Tahoe, California. Time Life Magazine has it on their list of 100 places of “Heaven on Earth.” But this time around, Christina had another person to consider, her boyfriend who wanted to go for the layup and return to Vail, as well as a seriously high unemployment rate in Lake Tahoe.

Christina in Boston – three days after her visit home, she moved to Tahoe

Christina, the fearless soul that she is, decided Tahoe or bust. The unemployment rate didn’t deter her. Her lack of connection or contacts didn’t deter her. The naysayers and doubters didn’t deter her. Three days after loading up a U-haul and driving 2100 plus miles, Christina and her boyfriend landed in Lake Tahoe. She sent me a text message as soon as she arrived, “Mom, I’m in heaven. I’m so happy!! Gorgeous here. Perfect weather. OMG.”

That same day, Christina and her boyfriend applied to rent their first pick of town homes. They were accepted within in hours and moved in. The next day she called me and asked me to look up a job posting on Craig’s list because she forgot the name of the person she was supposed to ask for. I gave her the name and wished her luck.

Two hours later she called me back. She got the job.

Christina is where she wants to be and she’s fully tapped into the Universal Energy that is free to everyone. She boldly goes where everyone else is afraid to go. And I wonder…did her near death experience at birth teach her something that so many of us have forgotten? Her fearlessness inspires me. I feel like she is the Master and I am the Student. As I sit and write this, I realize that my daughter has been my Teacher all along.

Christina (l) visiting her sister Jessica (r) in Seville, Spain