Four years ago I was recovery from surgery. I was pregnant with Gianna and they were coming in to tell me that the baby was still alive. Phew. To say the least. I didn't realize how much I cared until they were wheeling me back to prep for surgery and my eyes started to sting with tears. We found out the baby was a girl the day before. We named her Gianna after the saint. I said goodbye to Jamie and went into the cold--really operating rooms are freezing--cold room with the surgeon and his assistants.
This Ash Wednesday finds me neck deep in children. I took photos to illustrate but, appropriately, Stella was documenting the day and now that she's in bed I cannot locate the camera. I remember asking her where she put it...
I don't take for granted how charmed my life is. Even at this point: months from Jamie's conclusion to las school, two babies in less than two years, a small house, an Arizona summer heading our way--I am lucky. All my children are well. We have no major problems. I love my husband and he loves me back. I cannot avoid those ashes that we all return to, but this Ash Wednesday I can give up some things and offer prayers of thanksgiving for all that I have and prayers of supplication for all that so many others want or need.
I'm trying to get back in the groove of writing. Can you tell.
Insert precious progeny photo here: X.