Recently I met a family not unlike our own. Well, what we would have been had things gone differently last summer.

I know I can’t change how things ended up, and knowing what I know now and who I am, I wouldn’t. But there was always that little speck of hope inside of me at every ultrasound that they’d find the missing pieces, that they’d know how to fix her. But “surprise! your daughter is healthy and well!” never came.

This family we met have a just-turned-three year old and an almost one-year old, piercingly similar to what we would have been as a family right now. We too would have been chasing a spunky baby away from the fire all night. The babies would have eaten wood chips together and been tossed in the air by their daddies, gleefully smiling and giggling the whole time.

A year ago, even six months ago, I’m ashamed to say I wouldn’t have given these new friends the time of day. It was too painful, too harsh of a reminder of what we could have been, what we could have had.

Last night, I talked and laughed with them. And though the sting of loss was still there deep inside, my heart for once wasn’t empty. My throat wasn’t dry and the jealousy was gone. The realization came to me that they have the most beautiful family, but so do we. Our family is just as it should and was always meant to be.