I (Still) Count My Blessings

I wrote this piece four years ago and it was originally published by two other parenting sites under the title I Count My Blessings Everday. It seemed fitting to share on Family Footnote this week since October is Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Month. Miscarriages were a daunting theme in my life during our family planning years and it still hurts to recall how those times of loss felt all consuming. Every person's path to parenthood is different. It feels good to know that talking about miscarriage and infertility can help others feel less alone. 

I count my blessings everyday, all three of them, because they made me a mom. They gave me a role that is so unforgiving and yet so wonderful at the same time. I could not imagine my life any other way than as a parent to my two daughters and rambunctious son.

I count my blessings because I was never able to get pregnant on my terms. I suffered some losses, and then hit a stride of fertility, only to enter this recent home stretch the same way I began it – with loss. I would love my family planning years to end on a high, but that may not be in the cards for me and my husband.

But it’s okay. I am lucky to have three kids and am more than fortunate when it comes to my everyday life. Despite the dull ache of loss that comes with habitual miscarriages, I get to be happy. I know too many wonderful women who only see the sad side of pregnancy.

Even though my miscarriages outnumber my live births, I count my blessings because I still got to experience it all. Labor, delivery, gestational diabetes, and even an emergency c-section would all make it onto my mothering curriculum vitae. I wear breastfeeding, jaundice, mustard-seed poops, thrush, multiple ear infections, and too many nights of falling asleep in a recliner like badges of honor.

I count my blessings because the hardships and the successes that come from creating little humans make me a better person. I take less for granted. I know that things are not meant to be perfect. Without the heartache, how would I feel the true happiness that comes with raising kids? The hurt puts life into perspective – especially a mothering life full of temper tantrums, bathroom accidents, and frowny faces from teachers.

I count my blessings because I worked hard for my kids. I went through seven nauseous first trimesters, and more, to get them and raise them. But what I went through is a casual sprint race compared to the marathon event that can be infertility. I did not face down years of doctors and multiple procedures to come out at a loss or with no answers. I had a few misfortunes that became bookends to the greatest moments in my life.

I count my blessings because there are so many would-be parents who can’t enjoy a success story, men and women who have tried everything, yet never get to hold that newborn against their bare chests. They don’t get to fail or succeed at strapping a wailing infant into a car seat. They won’t wake up five times in one night to peek into a crib and see their miracle son or daughter.

I count my blessings because, even though the losses hurt, life continues on for my family. It is going by at such a fast pace that my kids have me spinning in circles. I don’t have time to dwell on the “what ifs” of it all. The moving forward is wonderful. It doesn’t mean I don’t hurt, but it does mean there is always a reason to be grateful.

I count my blessings because every single person on the planet has a sad story. The sad stories make us stronger and give us character. But I choose to not make them the defining moments of my life.

I count my blessings because I can. I get the happy endings along with the occasional melancholy plot. When it comes to the story of my life, I am not indentured in tragedy. I have had hiccups and roadblocks, but no mountainous pitfalls.

Motherhood is hard work, but it is great work. I feel privileged to experience it. I count my blessings because I am blessed.

Originally published by The Good Mother Project and Parent.co