On this day, 3 years ago, we started the journey of learning the boys’ diagnosis.  Reading this post from that time is hard for me.  It was the most confused, scared, vulnerable, and broken I had ever been.  To be honest, over those next few weeks I mourned the children I was expecting, and started preparing for the unknown.

That sounds harsh; to mourn your own children before they are even born.  But mourning who they were not made it possible to celebrate who they are.  I knew each good day was to be cherished.  And vowed to find joy even if the days were bad.

Looking back, I think breaking was important.  The me from then wasn’t ready, and couldn’t have handled this.  They say you don’t know your strength until it is tested.  I don’t think mine existed until it was needed.

I think of stained glass windows.  Broken glass, becoming something new.   Many of you are part of why I was able to put my pieces back together. Thank you for being there for us then, and thank you for being there for us now.

Three years later, we do in fact find joy in each day.  And there’s a beauty in the broken-ness that I could never have anticipated.

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