Today

Today is any day and every day. I woke up to Tink sitting on the bathroom counter, playing with the toothbrushes. Then Pink ran into the room, snuggling between her father and me. Rella began wailing, but happily greeted me (with a boogery face and a saturated diaper that had actually burst open and her pjs were full of the urine bally things). I looked out at the dreary gray sky, watched CNN, made my tea, tried to get closure on a 5 day argument with my husband. Typical day in the life.

Today, across the country, another mother looked at her 16 month old daughter for the last time. Today, for this mother, was the first day of every parent's worst nightmare. Today, her baby daughter (the same exact age as my own little Rella) grew angel wings. Her baby died.

It's amazing to me that life is filled with people this very moment, this VERY moment as I'm typing on this computer, as my baby is napping, as my 4 year old comes down and nags me for the hundredth time about dying Easter eggs that there are human beings crying, losing, aching, grieving. Saying goodbye.

I did not know this woman named Heather Spohr or her daugher Madeline Alice. She lives in L.A. I know of her because she is one of over 100 contributing bloggers on the Silicon Valley Moms Blog site (I blog for the NJ Moms Blog, one of their sister sites). I've never met her in real life or cyberspace, nor have I read her blog. But her news was posted today on the site and for some reason, that was enough of a connection to break my heart. The fact that her daughter was born the exact month and year as my youngest was also very profound.

Today, my girls will annoy me, aggravate me, and drive me up a wall. They will make me laugh, hug me and snuggle in my lap. I will smell their hair, kiss their plump cheeks, and sneak into their rooms after they fall asleep and think how much I love them. I will wake up tomorrow and they will run into my room, jump on the bed, breathe their stinky little morning breath in my face, and we'll start our day. Together. There are no words to express the gratitude I feel for this daily gift. The gift of my crazy, adorable, rambunctious, loving, beautiful children. The gift of one more day, and hopefully a long lifetime, of never knowing such heartbreak.

To learn more about contributing to the March of Dimes, in honor of all the children and families who live such heartbreak and grow angel wings far too young, visit The Spohrs Are Multiplying or the March Of Dimes.