Why am I so lucky?

I'm sitting here in a comfortable home while my baby boy sleeps soundly and healthy in his crib in the other room, alive.

And it's running through my head. He is alive and healthy, not to mention beautiful and joyful. He's perfect and wonderful and I'm ever so lucky to be his Momma. I love him.

And I look at Corrine, I see her pain, her suffering, and I weep for her. I can feel the sharp blade of despair press against my heart and merely grant me a small glimmer of what she must have felt, what she must feel everyday when she wakes from dreaming and know that her baby, her child, is gone.

Sometimes I wonder if maybe it's not "normal" for me to be so emotional over this. Other times I know it's perfectly OK as my feelings come and go only when sparked by a picture or a conversation. Still...

I'm putting together my physical portfolio. It's nothing fancy, just a $12 black faux leather scrapbook with black pages and pictures on a white paper to create a border. It's not high class by any means but it's something to take and show people who might be interested.