Counting My Blessings

I never thought I would have just one child.  It had always been “my plan” to have at least two and they were going to be two years apart just like my sister and I.

My daughter had taken us nearly four years to conceive so I couldn’t believe it when I became pregnant right away the second time around.  And then it happened.  My first miscarriage.  Just as quickly as it came, my pregnancy went.  I had only been a few weeks along, and while I was sad, I still remained hopeful that it would happen again for us, and it did.

This time, I got to see my little peanut.  I can still remember laying on the table in my doctors office looking over at the black and white monitor and seeing the little heartbeat for the first time.   But two weeks later, I was back in that same office laying on the same table, looking at an empty monitor.  The heartbeat was gone and I had lost my baby again.

In life I’ve learned that some things are simply indescribable.  My miscarriage is one of them.  How can I put words to losing a life that I so desperately wanted?  The future I had always thought I would have was no longer.  We would be a family of three, instead of four.  There would be no brother or sister for our daughter.  I would have just one car seat, instead of two.

But that’s just it.  I HAVE one car seat.  I HAVE a family of three.  I HAVE a daughter.  And she is amazing, and she is healthy, and she is here.

For me, life is about choices.  I can choose to be sad and miserable over what isn’t, or I can choose just as equally to be happy over what is.

But that doesn’t mean I will ever forget.  This year my baby would’ve turned five and started kindergarten.  And while I will always, always count those birthdays, I will count my blessings too.