During my miscarriage, I posted a blog about the white feather that poofed out of my towel one night and landed on my toes. It's the feather on the right of the screen. I felt warmth and a sense of calm peace over that dainty little feather that held the strength to tumble out of nowhere and find its way to the dry spot on my toes-- protected, safe, put there for a purpose. Really, that feather represented so much to me. After that feather showed up, little white feathers started fluttering around the house just about daily. I'd find them tucked in the bed, drifting past my face in the living room, settling next to the dog at dinner. I'm telling you, these feathers were everywhere.
Tonight I stared at that picture and remembered the pain I was feeling at the time I took it. It made me think about who I was before February 1st. And who I've become.
I like this me much better. This me feels exhilerated by the thump, thump of an arm or a leg-- simply because it is my baby's arm or leg and it's HEALTHY! This me tears up at the thought of tickling my toddler and hearing the infectious sound of a whole-hearted giggle. This me is going to cherish every second with my babies. This me will remember to thank my children for being them. This me will want her sweet babies to know that I feel like the luckiest mom in the whole wide world, just because I get to be their mom. I don't know any of these children yet, but I love them all already. This me wants this for every woman who so desperately wants a child of her own.
And those feathers that kept popping up in the days surrounding the loss? I haven't seen a single one since. They came, they left their mark on my heart and they moved on. What a blessing.