Miracles sometimes happen.

There’s an ear mark on my arm. (Not to be confused with an earmark. No, there’s not a legislative provision tattooed on my arm.)It’s a cute little ear indentation left behind by my daughter who spent the last 30 minutes getting comfy and falling asleep on my arm.

I love it.

I won’t go into detail, but I found out yesterday that the saga of reproductive health issues has already returned to my life. Other than the anxiety over whether our baby was healthy and thriving in the womb (and that finally decreased a lot once I got past 28 weeks), I got to spend nine months, plus the last two since her birth, unconcerned over the problems and issues I’ve been dealing with for…it seems forever.

Such unhappy health news so soon after her birth makes me even more aware of what a miracle our daughter is. It is truly amazing that she is alive and healthy. I pray fervently every day that she will not have to go through any of the reproductive problems I’ve experienced.

Of course to have this little girl with us - healthy, beautiful and smiling - I would pay any price. And I guess I am.

The truth is, we live life constantly in the company of joy and pain. I’ve written about that before. The joy of having Grace in our family, of holding her and seeing her little ear mark on my arm, of seeing her smile at me, of watching her grow and show more of her strong personality makes the painful reminders bearable.

She is growing so fast. I love her just the way she is every day. I want her to grow and mature. I love seeing it! Yet I also wonder if this will be the only chance I get to nurse, hold, rock, play with, and sing to a baby of mine. It’s in the back of my head. Even on fussy days when Grace is inconsolable, or refuses to be put down to sleep, I’m aware that this might be the only baby experience I get. I can’t soak it up or appreciate it enough!

 Another painful reminder is that Grace has an older sibling that we never got to meet other than by sonogram. It’s unfortunate timing that Mother’s Day falls in the same week as we discovered this miscarriage two years ago. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to live through the month of May without thinking about it.

I know there’s a big difference this year. This Mother’s Day I can actually hold and see and hear my child. I’m grateful every single day that I’m a mom with a healthy daughter. It is a miracle.

My heart goes out to all those still waiting for their miracle, or those who have lost a child, or who have an estranged child. I’m sure there are some for whom Mother’s Day is only sweet. I’ve been in the shoes of a woman for whom Mother’s Day is totally bitter. I think for many, it is bitter sweet.

 My mom might be one who can celebrate Mother’s Day as only sweet…and she deserves it! Yet she can also empathize with all my contrasting emotions. It means so much to me that she remembers my first child, too. I’m so thankful for all the ways she’s helped me be the mom I am now…and the woman I am before I ever knew I could be a mom.