When The Worst Isn’t That Bad

Giving birth 12 weeks early was the biggest crisis I’ve dealt with in my adult life.

But it wasn’t an entirely negative experience:

I meet a group of really wonderful women and some pretty tough preemies.

I got to know a team of phenomenal NICU doctors and nurses.

I got an extra three months with MAS—months during which he would have otherwise been a mystery to me. (And what a miracle to be able to watch the rapid and spectacular development that occurs during the third trimester.)

But the real kicker: I discovered something really important about myself, something that has changed me in the most profound way.

Despite my previous doubts, it turns out I’m actually a remarkably strong person. Life can throw its worst at me and I don’t crumble. I bend like a reed. I bounce back easily and quickly. I don’t lose perspective even while I’m terrified and the walls are crumbling around me.

And somehow knowing that about myself changes everything. And that’s the gift MAS gave me: faith that no matter what happens from here on out, I’ll rise out of the ashes.