We had family photos done this weekend. For the first time ever with (almost) the entire family. It's a Christmas gift of sorts for my parents so we all got together - my brother and his family and my sister and hers - and we all scrubbed our kids and tried desperately to keep them clean and generally be presentable so we could get a nice photo. Of everyone. All together.

We weren't too anal retentive about it - I'm happy to say. We had fun with it and got some good shots - some candid and some posed. We got some shots of the individual families together and the grandkids and the siblings - my brother, my sister and I. We took some photos inside the house and then, despite the fact that it was cold and a bit wet - we headed to the park for some outdoor photos. I think the grown-ups caved into the cold before the little people did - we are usually the weak links.

This is the family you saved. You didn't just save one of us; you saved us all. These photos happened because on August 13th, 2014 - you took time away from work or family to come down to Toronto and undergo a painful and, by all rites, completely unnecessary procedure. The next day, your selflessness granted our family hope and a chance and, 2 years later, a miracle.

Photos in the park.

So, let's begin with the introductions, shall we? That girl with the bright smile and straight white teeth (courtesy of some not insignificant orthodontic work) is my sister. She is 8 years younger than me and people get us mixed up sometimes which makes me incredibly happy as the older sister. She is a scientist and a do-gooder in the best possible sense. That tall guy beside her is her husband. He makes playgrounds and is a kid at heart. They got married in the spring a couple years ago. We all went to her wedding and watched her walk down the aisle and marry this man; we celebrated all together because of your gift. We wore new outfits and shiny shoes and danced and cried and laughed 'til our sides hurt. We did this because it was a wedding - a beautiful wedding - but also because it was a celebration where, quite easily, a tragedy could have been. In May of the previous year, we didn't know - we didn't think - we would all be there. I remember telling my sister to 'have to have a plan B' in case of the worst, yet not quite being able to fathom the thought myself. While we didn't end up needing the plan B, the one that included facing the day with an empty chair and a hole in our hearts. Instead, we went with Plan A and it was a good day full of sunshine and gratitude and champagne.

The other growing family there is my brother and his wife - My brother is the middle sibling. He's four years younger than me but, has for a while, been the tallest in the family. He is a teacher and a coach. He's an amazing dad, an decent husband and an average brother (he has an ego - so it's important to keep him grounded) His wife is his high-school sweetheart. She has a level of patience and perserverance that I've always admired. She is successful in so many ways and always looks put together in a not-trying-too-hard kind of way. She was at my wedding over 15 years ago as the girlfriend and has hung in since then. They have travelled together and been through most of what life has to offer together. They haveanimals - a menagerie of sorts - with 2 cats (although they are cats in name only and have a stronger resemblance to wild pumas or something) and a dog. They are fundamentally 'dog' people though, given that it was their dog that was the flower girl at their wedding. That little ginger beside them in my niece Celia. She turned up just over two years ago in June. She was an awful baby with terrible colic but today is the life of the party - she sings modern country and western tunes on her daddy's iPhone and gives hugs that melt your heart. She is kind and bossy and possesses all the future markings of a leader. We love her to death and are all looking forward to meeting the next one (fingers crossed on the colic though…)

Now there's my family. As you've figured out by now, I am the oldest at 38 years old. My husband and I have been married for a while - 15 years in September - having been fortunate enough to find each other early in life. Ever the pragmatist, my husband suggested we may as well just get on with it and get married, which I agreed with,  and we haven't looked back. That surprisingly tall blonde boy is our son Simon. He's nine-years old now much to my shock. He was my first baby - and he still is. He was born an old soul. He is quiet and sensitive but can be silly too. He likes watching 'fail' videos and thinks people getting hurt is hilarious - slapstick humour is his art form of choice. He cares deeply for others and possesses a level of empathy that most adults lack. That said, he is also an older brother and he's not above winding his sister up. He's terrible at keeping his room tidy and, while we are making some progress, his table manners occasionally leave a lot to be desired. We also have a daughter, Fiona. She is 5 years old. She is learning to read and loves to colour. She's great at playing games and is either surprisingly lucky or a very good cheater. She also shows some strong leadership skills, loves making silly faces and has a laugh that makes you smile no matter what mood you're in when you hear it. She has a kind of bright and fierce spirit that is difficult to describe. She was an enormous baby and came out smiling. She learned to walk at a young age and has always been inquisitive and playful.

She was 15 months old when she got sick the first time. AML - A blood cancer. 6 month of treatment got her into remission and home in time for Christmas. It was just after her 3rd birthday when she relapsed. 6 weeks later, we stared into the abyss. The treatment wasn't working this time and her chances of survival were slipping away.

And then they found you. An anonymous donor on the registry. A perfect match. A chance. Some hope. A lifeline and something that we seized and held onto for dear life.

It wasn't easy. Getting her into remission to get her to transplant was a miracle and there have been plenty - too many - challenges since then. Nothing about this 'treatment' is ideal and it comes with all sorts of potential downstream issues. Unfortunately, she has had a lot of them. But regardless of all the challenges, the outcome of the treatment, is a genuine miracle. A miracle that is the result of hard work and tireless research and continued dedication.

In a moment, you made a miracle possible. The miracle didn't happen on August 14th 2014 or Day 0 of treatment or even the day they found a perfect match on the registry.

I think the miracle happened on the day you said yes. The day that you said yes to giving our family hope and our daughter a chance. Somehow you had the opportunity to be a miracle for us and you said yes.

Because of you , a little girl is more than photos and memories and stories we tell to her cousin Celia. Because of you Fiona saw her Auntie Dayna marry her Uncle Mat. Because of Fiona will meet her newest cousin in a few months times. Because of you, the room at the top of the stairs - the room that has been empty for more than half of her life - is occupied again. Because of you, Simon has a sister. Because of you, a little girl started school and went trick or treating and is learning to ride a bike. Because of you, my daughter drives me crazy and makes me laugh.

And we have the photos to prove it.