Today, I had some blood tests to determine something about the miscarriage. Two hours before the blood tests, we got the bill for my hospital experience in the mail. And a misdirected "baby startup" package from Gerber. The first people I saw getting off the elevator in the lobby was a couple bringing their brand-new baby home. And I was plagued with memories of the last time I walked alone down the hallway to the parking garage with silent tears streaming down my face.
I wanted to pity myself. I really did. I wanted to spew out bitterness at the venipuncture specialist.
But as she asked me how many kids I had, I replied "just two".
Two.
Two boys.
And I was suddenly awash with gratitude for what I do have, once again.
It's not "just two."
It's "two spectacularly brilliant, uniquely special, highly confident, and gregarious creatures that God has equipped me to love and nurture."
And one in heaven.
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