The Day My World Changed

There are some days that you plan down to the smallest detail, only to discover that life has a much better plan of its own. Kori was supposed to be born on St. Patrick's Day. I already had an induction scheduled, our bags were packed, and her very first outfit had been carefully chosen. Everything was ready. Or so I thought. On Wednesday, March 15, 2000, I wasn't feeling quite right. I mentioned it to Kori's dad before we headed out to run a few errands. He suggested we stop by the hospital, "just to get checked." I was certain I wasn't in labor. Less than four hours later, at 8:17 that evening, Korinne Beth Bush made her entrance into the world. She weighed 7 pounds, 4 ounces, measured 19½ inches long, and had a head full of beautiful black hair. Our carefully packed hospital bags? Still sitting at home. From the very beginning, Kori seemed determined to write her own story instead of following anyone else's plans. The labor itself was surprisingly easy. In fact, it happened so quickly that after I called my parents to tell them I had been admitted to the hospital, Kori was born before they even arrived. One of my favorite memories from that day is something completely unexpected. Two medical students were at the hospital and asked if they could observe the delivery because they had never witnessed a birth before. Normally, I was far too shy to agree to something like that. But for reasons I still can't explain, I said yes. Looking back now, it somehow feels fitting. Kori spent her entire life teaching people—through her kindness, her creativity, her generosity, and the way she embraced every adventure. Perhaps her first lesson simply came a little earlier than any of us realized. She was welcomed into the world surrounded by love. Her big brother, Tyler, was one of the very first people to meet her, followed by both sets of grandparents and her two uncles. We had chosen her name long before she was born. I loved the name Korinne, but from the very beginning I knew I would call her Kori. Her middle name, Beth, held a special meaning too—it came from a KISS song that had become "our song" during her dad's and my relationship. Within minutes of meeting her, my family had already given her new names to answer to. My mom immediately began calling her "Kori-Belle," a nickname that stayed with her throughout her childhood. One of her uncles preferred "Kori-Bella," which eventually became simply "Bella." It didn't take long for everyone to find their own special way of loving her. The birth itself was one of the easiest parts of raising Kori. Maybe that should have been my first clue. Because the tiny baby with the dark hair would grow into a fearless little spitfire—charismatic, adventurous, endlessly curious, and determined to experience every bit of life she could. Looking back now, I don't think Kori ever really arrived quietly. She burst into our lives the same way she would continue to live them—with perfect timing of her own, a little unpredictability, and enough personality to fill every room she entered.

"Sometimes the smallest moments become the beginning of the greatest adventures."