“She’ll never make it.”

That was what the doctor told my mom and dad two years ago in the delivery room. They listened in panic and terror as the doctor explained my condition to them.


“What?” Daddy choked out through the tears that had welled up in his eyes.


“Your daughter was born without a windpipe. This is a very rare defect that only occurs in about one in every fifty-five thousand children worldwide.”


“What does that mean?” Mommy begged in disbelief.

“I don’t believe that there is any hope for your baby. If she does survive, however, she may never be able to live a normal life.”


They said that there was no hope, but I am Hope. Hope Wallace. And I was born without a windpipe. My condition has prevented me from leading the life of a normal two year old. I have never been able to breathe, eat, drink, or swallow on my own since the day I was born in South Korea, my homeland. Despite this abnormality, I do not suffer; I know no other way.


When my parents heard about Dr. May, who had the dexterity to surgically implant a windpipe into me, they immediately jumped with excitement and enthusiasm- that is, until they were informed of the cost it would take to have the procedure at his hospital in Sweden. Another doctor, Dr. Halle, offered to bring Dr. May from Sweden to Illinois to have the procedure in his hospital, and they agreed to perform the operation for free. Their generosity came as a great relief to my mom and dad. I heard the doctors say that only fourteen other people in the world had ever had the operation done by Dr. May. I would be the fifteenth and the youngest of all fifteen patients. Although the risks were high, my parents booked the earliest flight they could find, and soon we were on our way to Children’s Hospital of Illinois. When we arrived, Dr. May greeted my family and me with a huge optimistic smile.


Within no time of our arrival, Dr. May took me to an examination room, where he inserted a huge needle into my hip and extracted some of my bone marrow. The needle caused me a lot of pain, but I didn’t worry because Mommy and Daddy were holding my hand the whole time. Somehow, a week later, my stem cells had formed a windpipe just my size!



The next day, we went to the hospital to see Dr. May. He put me on a bed, and Mommy and Daddy said goodbye to me and told me that they loved me and that they would see me as soon as I got out of surgery. After they gave me lots of hugs and kisses, Dr. May took me into the operation room on my bed. He gave me a shot, and I slept through my whole nine hour procedure.



When I woke up, Mommy and Daddy were sitting beside my hospital bed holding my hands. They told me that I didn’t have to eat my food from my feeding tube anymore and that I could be like my older sister and eat real food. Once I heard that, some of the pain that I felt in my throat from my surgery went away. Daddy had brought with us a lollipop from back home in Korea. After comparing the tastes of an American lollipop and a Korean lollipop, I decided without a doubt that I liked the Korean lollipop better. Although I was only allotted a few licks, I enjoyed its delicious taste and wished that I could have devoured the whole thing.



Since my surgery, I have been recovering quickly. I still have to be hooked to a breathing machine for a while, but I do not have the feeding tube in me anymore. Hopefully I will be able to go home within a month or so. I have learned through my journey that I can live a normal life, despite what the Korean doctor said. I am so thankful to Dr. May for doing my surgery and to Dr. Halle for taking care of the cost and for letting us have the procedure at his hospital. I am grateful that Mommy and Daddy and Dr. May did not give up on me. They had hope.