In June of 2001, I met my husband. He was kinda dorky in my eyes, but I fell for him instantly.
It took us a little while to confirm it all, but in June of 2004, we married eachother for life.

And for that I am grateful.

Then in January of 2006, we quit our jobs and sold our house, and ran around the world for six months.

And for that I am grateful.

When we returned from this adventure of a lifetime, we decided to start a family.
Anyone who knows me knows I was grateful for THAT step.
I was meant to mother.

I even got a nice nest to hatch them in.

Grateful. Grateful. Grateful.

A couple of bumps in the road, but March 8th, 2008…
We got the best gift of all…
Ava Claire.

Um, my heart is so full of gratitude for this kid.
She is my LIFE. I love her guts.
She loves me back. And makes me laugh. And makes me put one foot in front of another.
And for that I am grateful.

And even though our road since Ava’s birth has been filled with tears, and troubles, and trying times…
My husband has put up with it all, my doctor (and his nurse) have tolerated me in the most caring way, and friends and family around us have done what they can to help. My adorable “Mom friends” (some I’ve only met online) have donated leftovers generously to our fertility efforts, send lucky rocks and bracelets that have good juju…wished and prayed and hoped for us… and knew just when to stop talking and just help me kick and scream: This sucks.
And for them, I am so very grateful.

After several losses we have finally gotten some answers as to WHY.
I have an autoimmune disease called “antiphospholipid antibody syndrome.”
Basically my blood makes clots that have been blocking or stopping healthy pregnancies.
How Ava got here, and how I’ve escaped a deadly bloodclot or stroke, we don’t know.
Sans babymaking, this thing is no big whoop. Easily treated. Usually benign.
But since we so very much want another big whoop, I’ll be taking shots daily to help my body and potential babies.

What’s wrong with me?
Well, now it has a name.
We know.
We have a diagnosis.
Oh how I am grateful.

As I sat in the Hematology and Oncology clinic yesterday, waiting to see a specialist about this, I was surrounded by all kinds of people. Some were bald, some were yellow. Some were getting sick in lil’ bags as they waited to get back to the infusion lab, to get yet another round of deadly poison pumped into their bodies, in order to live. Maybe. A lady next to me getting her blood drawn said “I just became a grandma. I can’t have cancer. I’m not supposed to spend my thursdays getting chemo. ”

Of course, I wish I was “normal.” But really, who is?

I don’t have time for “poor me” anymore.
I’m gonna go kick some clot’s ass, and take names after.

I can still kick some ass.
And for that I am grateful.