A post from 4 years ago. (With some revisions.)

On this day in 2015, I was sitting in bed with Ethan (Willow’s father) and the phone rang.

Upon seeing my geneticist's phone number on the caller I.D, I immediately felt my heart drop in to my stomach. I had been waiting for exactly a month for this phone call and knew it could only go one of two ways: Either Willow had Cystic Fibrosis...or she didn't. Either our child would be born with a genetic, terminal disease...or she wouldn't.

So I swallowed the lump in my throat and answered the phone...

And she didn't.

The day Willow came in to the world is and always will be my favorite day...but finding out our baby girl was healthy comes in with a very, very close second.

Sometimes I have a hard time dealing with the fact that she will more than likely be my only child...that every time we have a kid there is that looming chance they won't be so lucky as Willow. (If I happen to be with a carrier again.) I spend a lot of time quietly picking up tiny little outfits and pjs she's outgrown, imagining what it would be like to box them all up and say “I'm saving these for the next one.” And for a few seconds it's nice to dream about the sound of four little feet running through the house instead of two...but then Willow says something like “Mommy, look!” (with pure amazement on her face) and it's a toy she's had for over a year that she forgot she had, I snap out of dreaming and remember that what I have in front of me is something so much sweeter than anything I could have ever possibly dreamt up, and not a single day passes that I don't think about just how lucky I am to call her mine. To have her. To see her sweet little hands reaching in to my bowl of snacks, to trip over one of her gazillion toys that are laying on the floor, or to wrestle her to take acetaminophen when she's running a fever. I love every single aspect of motherhood, even the not so glamorous parts. The random temper tantrums, the feeling like I'm assisting in an exorcism during bath time, the liking bananas one day and hating them the next...I love it all. And although when I was younger I envisioned a future with multiple sets of feet running, tornado-ing through our home, I have to say that the sound of just one pair is literally music to my ears.

Today I will not box up outfits and think of what we don't have, but will instead celebrate and be thankful for what we DO have...because believe me, it is so much more than enough.