23

I've never really not liked a number.  I mean, why would a number be so bad?  How could it cause so much grief?

It can.  And it does.

23.

Just saying it.  Just seeing it.  It causes tears to well in my eyes.  It causes my heart to race a little faster.  It sends my mind swirling.  Crazy.  No, not me, although some surely think it.  Crazy because a simple, two-digit number affects my life so dramatically, every time it comes into it.

Let me explain. 

My first son James, was due on July 23, 2010.  That was the day he was "expected" to make his entrance into this world.  He didn't.  He came far earlier.  He came too soon.  He was born still at 23 weeks, 1 day.

Although, up until last month the number 23 hadn't affected me the way it does now.  I've reached my breaking point with the number 23. 

June 14, 2013.  It was that day that our family's path changed yet again.  It was that shocking day that at a quick visit to the doctor turned our world upside down again.  Walking into that appointment, I was a proud momma.  I was proud of my ability to hold myself together for 23 weeks, anxiety, fears, all in check, all in control.  I had worked hard mentally, emotionally and physically to not go to the "what if" place during my pregnancy.  I prayed every day, and every night.  I spoke to James a lot, I asked him to help me bring his brother into this world safely.  I talked to my little baby boy.  I told him often how proud of him I was that he was growing so well and that he was being so gentle with his mom.  On June 14, I was exactly 23 weeks pregnant.  At the end of my OB's appointment, I laid down for a quick ultrasound, just for reassurance, and to have my little guy wave at me like he did the previous visit.  He did not.  In fact, he didn't move at all.  He had no heartbeat.  23 weeks.  On June 15, I delivered my second son, Zachary, at 23 weeks, 1 day.

So today, when I awoke and saw the date on my alarm clock, I wanted to turn over and not get up.  I wanted to lay there and think of all the ways the number 23 has given me so much grief.  I wanted to just forget today exists.

But it does.  Today, July 23 does exist.  I did get up.  I got up, and went and woke my sleepy 8 year old.  Her first words to me - where is Daddy?  Obviously Daddy is the one that has been the one to greet her in the mornings as of late.  I got ready, I made my daughter her lunch and I drove her to her circus day camp she is attending this week.  I decided I had to embrace today. It exists and I exist.

So, I sit here and ask myself, how do I embrace the number 23?  How do I cope, knowing that every month, there is a 23rd day.  I cannot hide from the number 23.  So, I ask myself, how can I be grateful for the number 23?

First and foremost, I carried my baby boys for 23 weeks.  Without those 23 weeks with each of them, I would never have had a chance to meet them.  James and Zachary have very different stories, but the number 23 is something these brothers have in common.  They both lived within me for the same amount of time.  Forever I am grateful to have my boys, even if I only had them physically with me for 23 weeks.  I got to hold them both in my arms at 23 weeks.  This I am grateful for.

I am very grateful for my sweet, darling niece.  Today she turns 3.  She was born July 23, 2010.  My sister and I were expecting at the same time, our due dates two days apart.  My niece was born on James' due date.  That was a hard day for me back then, knowing James "should" be there that day too.  I am in love with my niece.  I cannot get enough of her!  We don't live in the same city, but whenever we can see her and her two brothers, we do.  She is a smart little cookie, very witty and very set in her ways and just so darn cute!  I am so grateful for her and each of her birthdays.  I believe she has a very special angel cousin watching over her. 

Two of my very closest, dearest, friends were also born on the 23rd of a month.  One June 23, and another October 23.  Without these two amazing women, I'm not sure where I would be, or if I would even be here.  I am so grateful for their friendship, their hearts, their ears that listen to me endlessly when needed, their hugs and their smiles and laughter.  They bring me joy and peace.  They are also both wonderful moms, from whom I've learned so much about parenting.  I get such joy in spending time with them and their children.  They truly are blessings in my life, and I am grateful for them.

23 does exist.  It is a number I dread, but in thinking of the ways I am grateful for it, I am sitting here just a little less anxious about the day.  I don't think I'll ever love the number...but I'll always be grateful for it.

Is there a number you dread?  Have you thought of why you are grateful for it?  It may or may not help you a little...but another way of thinking about it might just be what you need at this moment in time...