I just finished looking at a blog written by a man who has a daughter about the same age as Julia. His blog featured photos of granulation tissue that had developed on his little girl's upper abdomen. It seems his daughter has a host of health problems that have plagued her since birth. The man writes about every ounce of body weight his daughter gains as if she had won a gold medal. He tells his family and friends about his baby battling diarrhea and urinary tract infections on a regular basis.
I read his blog and know that I am lucky.
I saw a kid today with big patches of missing hair. Alopecia? Maybe. But his remaining hair was so long that it had to be some sudden, recent event that caused the hair to fall out. Chemotherapy? Probably.
I didn't need to see this kid to know that I am lucky.
All of this lucky stuff gets thrown out the window when Julia screams incessantly because she wants me to feed her sweet potato and turkey dinner while she is cradled in her mother's arms. Suddenly the high chair is no longer good enough for her.
But she makes it through her dinner without any violence on my part and is agreeable as I put her down for a nap before bath time. She smiles at me before I leave her room and suddenly I'm back to feeling lucky again.