When I was little, we're talking old house little so no older than 5, I remember closing my eyes and attempting to clear my mind so that I might remember back to before I was born. When I was a little angel baby, playing in the clouds. I was certain that we all existed in heaven and just played with all the other not born yet babies before we were summoned to Earth. In my preschool mind, this meant that I only became a member of my family by sheer circumstance; my mom was ready to have another baby, and I was next in line. I believe I was searching for an explanation as to why I was so lucky. Why did I get the best mom in the world? Why did I get the most fun dad ever? And as time went on, I began to notice other things such as plenty of good food, a big house, two running cars, an abundance of toys, new shoes, which made me wonder, again, why was I so lucky to have been born into this affluent family? Why was I not a poor person? Why was I white? A girl? Loved?
I knew at such a very young age, how special it is to be part of a happy, big, successful family. I don't believe I have ever taken this for granted. I am thankful, everyday, for the family I was born into. So, when I first knew of my pregnancy with Brock, I instantly thought, how lucky is that little baby playing in the clouds? This child is not even born, and it is already loved more than some infants feel in a lifetime. Though I now fully understand the "birds and the bees", so I don't imagine babies flitting about in heaven, I still marvel at my existence, and the existence of my young children. These two boys of mine are now the luckiest. As am I.