In Regards to Miracles

The last few months have filled our lives with miracles. On a daily basis, we are reminded of the constant need we have. The need to ask for more, to expect one more blessing, to beg for one more day that surpasses expectations.

We also experience the undying, overwhelming, constant emotion of gratitude. Grateful for one more day. For one more hour, one more test result, one more afternoon of holding our baby-- grateful for the chance to touch her skin and not tear it open, grateful for the periods of apnea, because it means she's breathing on her own every other moment. Grateful for the high heart rate because it means her heart is beating. It's working. Her heart; it works.

Grateful she's alive.

Ever so grateful she's alive.

And so as we struggle with the juxtaposition of our two realities-- the yearning for miracles and the all encompassing feeling of gratitude-- we realize that the greatest miracle we have is this conundrum. The very fact that we struggle to balance the need to ask for "more, more, more" and the emotional high of having so much, it means we have a child here. A child that's trying so hard to be here. A child that's struggling each day a little less than the day before.

And so as we talk of miracles, we recognize that we've already received the greatest miracle possible. A child. A child who doesn't need to ever see, ever walk, ever talk, ever swallow to be a miracle.

Her very existence is the miracle. The one we will be incredibly grateful for, for the rest of our lives. We can hope and pray and be grateful for anything else that comes along, any other ability that she may possess, but those "talents" are not her shining stars. Those abilities are not manifestations of a Higher Power.

She is the manifestation.

She always will be.

And we're ever so grateful.