Today . . .

i was reminded that life is hard.

Went for a run this morning. It was a good run. Humid. Three miles. Not too hot. Didn't have to put the shades over the boys. That was nice. I could watch them during my run. Scrubs ran well. As usual lately. He's become a pro at trotting next to the stroller. I barely know he is there.

After the run, I stopped at the park by our house. My friend Heather came out of her house with her little boy Sam. She brought me a glass of water. I didn't realize how thirsty I was till I drank the whole glass in a matter of seconds. Hit the spot.

Sam and Isaac played. Sam went down the slide. Isaac followed. That's the first time he's gone down the slide unassisted.

Growing up.

She told me about a friend of her's. They are going to be holding a "Celebration of Life" party. Their son has been diagnosed with Trisomy 18, a genetic disorder not compatible with life. This means that while he may survive until birth, he will, without a miracle, die soon after birth -- maybe hours. Maybe days. Maybe months.

I quickly reflected back to a blog I followed online for quite some time. The story of Eliot. If you get a chance, take a moment to watch this video which walks you through the 99 days of Eliot's life. You will cry. Be warned. But it is beautiful. Moving.

When you watch it, maybe you too will have a day like I had. A day where you count your blessings. Where you remember that life is not easy. That it isn't always fair. That it is hard. That while we are going about the mundane tasks of our seemingly ordinary days, others are grieving losses and carrying pain and hurting. Badly.

I walked back to my house after my talk with Heather. I walked back pushing my two little boys in my double stroller. As I write this now, Isaac just came running up to me, holding one of his blocks. He's recently discovered that they have pictures on them. He found one of a "ball." He set it on my desk and ran back into the living room to discover further. He returned moments later with another ball. This time a baseball.

It is hard for me to believe. Hard for me to believe after all the years, all the pain, all the tears, all the heartache, that I am a mom. That I have not one little boy but two little boys. When did this happen? When did things change so quickly?

I lost many embryos during our journey through IVF. But I never miscarried. I never faced a negative diagnosis for a child I was carrying. I have never carried that grief. How do you carry that grief? How do you stay strong?

God.

Somehow, faith, a belief, a trust that He is bigger than this Earth. That His plans are mightier. That He knows better.

Today, I value my pain. I know that my pain helps me to understand others. To encourage. To listen. To cry.

But my pain seems so small. So insignificant. So trivial in light of the pain of others.

May we all remember today that there are others needing our prayers, our support, our encouragement, our friendship. May we remember that while our life may be coasting in a good direction, others are facing the most difficult moments of their lives.

May we never forget the hurting people. The widows. The orphans. The childless. The broken. May they never be far from our hearts.

Thanks Heather for reminding me of that.