There’s a drawing on my refrigerator in the place that was once used as the “command center” of all the calendars, prescriptions slips, invoices, and med lists.
There are sippy cups, tiny utensils, and pink plates tucked into the cabinets where all of my pills were kept.
In the refrigerator, there were boxes of pre-loaded syringes that have since been replaced with cheese sticks.
A corner bedroom that used to be cold and empty and used for housing extra junk is now filled with warm pink blankets, a safe and cozy crib, and bursting with the sweetest laughter.
The bruises and needle pricks that covered my stomach are now healed as I’m reminded each time she pulls up my shirt and yells “BELLY!”
A well-kept home in the woods that just felt too big for two (and a dog) is now covered in toys, crumbs, and crayons.
Tonight, as I closed the refrigerator and laid eyes on this masterpiece made by my almost 18-month-old miracle, I’m reminded of all the sacrifice, the work, and the heartbreak.
And I feel gratitude and appreciation for what now sits in its place.
Tonight a simple text from a friend reminded me of perspective. There’s no cure for what causes this for most of us. The sadness still lingers and resurfaces from time to time. But I will always, ALWAYS remember how I prayed so fervently for what we have now.
Just a late-night thought from a tired mama.
Originally published on the author’s Facebook page