While in chat the other night someone asked the question, “Where was my miracle?”in regards to losing their child. My thoughts have been consumed by that question ever since. What is a miracle? I had to go look it up in the dictionary and this is what I found.
In thinking about this more, I wondered who is even deserving of a miracle. Am I deserving? I would love to say that I am, but I don’t believe that to be true. Do I believe that I’m a good person? Yes, but that depends on who you would be comparing me to. Am I more deserving than any other person out there? No.
I have come to realize that I’ve been looking at this question all wrong. First, I was thinking of miracles happening only on a grand scale, the kind that affects many people. Not all miracles need to be on a grand scale. Second, I was thinking that miracles only revolved around religion. I was figuring that without “religious faith,” there could be no miracle. With this insight, I began to think back on my life.
November 14, 1998 holds very little meaning for most people. For me, it is the day that I began my journey as a mother. Conceiving a child happens every day for many people and wouldn’t necessarily be thought of as a miracle. As I was on birth control at the time, the chance that I would become pregnant was small, but when you also consider that we used a condom, the chances of conceiving a child were next to impossible. Yet the impossible seemed to happen: a miracle.
April 16, 2005; yet another day that is meaningless to most people. However, what was said would never happen, did happen. Doctors had always told me that Lily would never be able to walk on her own, but on this day, she proved them all wrong. Lily didn’t just take one or two steps she walked across an entire room. She walked to me. The emotions of seeing Lily do this brought me to my knees. What most parents take for granted was something I believed would never happen for my child. Words escaped me and all I had were tears of joy. I was in awe over what I had just seen: a miracle.
Lily was a child who was never meant to survive. No matter what I did or how much I loved her, I could never change that fact. For a little over ten years, every night when I would put Lily to bed, the question was always lurking in the back of my mind: Would this be the night that I lose her? In the morning when I went to wake her up, I’d find the answer. For a little over ten years, I was greeted by Lily’s bright blue eyes and a smile; her laughter as I lifted her out of bed to hug her close to me. Every morning that this happened was a miracle.
This all brings me back to the original question, “Where is my miracle?” The answer for me would be, “Buried in a cemetery.” Lily was and always will be my miracle. Was I deserving? Probably not, but Lily is the only one who can answer that question.
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