I was two and a half when a car crashed straight through my preschool.
I survived but with third-degree burns to 85 per cent of my body. I lost both legs below the knee, my right hand, and my right ear.
I celebrated Christmas and my third birthday in a hospital room, calling that place my home for six and a half months.
Then, just three short years later, it happened again. This time, my carer was pushing me across the road in my wheelchair when I was struck by a car and thrown 18 metres. I suffered a heart attack, a broken jaw, a broken shoulder, fractured ribs and, a tear to my left lung, and lost the ability to smell for the rest of my life. I spent two months in hospital, then just a month after that, went back to school.
My entire life has been a series of people telling me how much my story has meant to them, and what they remember about the days of my accidents, but I remember nothing.
This has been my life – whether I like it or not. This is who I am and, in my eyes, who I have always been. The dates of my accidents truly don't mean much to me. For everyone in my life, they were traumatic days full of fear, heartbreak and worry.
In a recent discussion I had with my surgeon, who has treated me since that very first day, I told him that I do not believe that I have suffered. In all honesty, it is what has brought me to this point in my life, where I am so incredibly happy and love everyone and everything around me. I have been fortunate enough to experience the kindness of strangers and love from all corners of the world. How could I ever say that I wish I never experienced that?
Watch: Sophie Delezio's incredible outlook on life. Story continues below.