I go through long stretches of time when I feel like my life is normal.  When I say normal, I mean constantly bickering kids, upwards of 50 loads of laundry each week, floors that are never clean, work that is never done, never enough time alone with my husband.  I also mean snuggling with my beautiful girls, celebrating milestones like birthdays, carving out a little bit of time to read a good book.  You know, all of the chaos that is associated with raising children and running a household. 
Then the smallest thing throws that feeling right out the door.  Today it was Isabella lifting her shirt to play peek-a-boo with me.  Yes, I am used to the constant diligence surrounding her health.  I am used to seeing her scarred body.  I am used to (but never happy about) the constant whining from the prednisone.  You'd think that I would be used the all of it.  Yet sometimes I can almost fool myself into putting it all aside for just a little bit.  Then I am slapped back into the reality that has become my life by a simple flash of Isabella's scar. 
The same scar that I see several times a day.  The one I could probably draw in my sleep.  I know every curve, every place where there once was a stitch.  Maybe I am growing too accustomed to seeing it, too comfortable with it.  So comfortable that I can almost put its existence out of my mind for a moment.  Then comes the innocent act of a normal toddler.  Peek-a-boo!  And there it is in all its glory.  Bringing back all of those other feelings.  Everything but normal. 
Yes, I always know it could be worse.  I am thankful every day for what we have.  Yet sometimes the enormity of everything rushes at me like a freight train.  I can spend 29 days out of 30 dismissing everyone who says "I don't know how you do it", or "you are so strong", or any other of the myriad of comments and compliments that I get daily just for moving forward every day.  About one day out of that 30, though, I wonder how I do it, too.  Obviously, it's not just me.  I have my truly amazing husband who is with me at every turn, as well as the phenomenal support that we get from our friends, family, and even strangers.  But there are those times when I, too, ask how I manage to put one foot in front of the other.
I sit and wonder how I got from where I was 12 years ago to where I am today.  I graduated from college almost 12 years ago, and I was going to take on the world.  I saw the Peace Corps in my future, and then any number of Alumni Quarterly update worthy jobs and accomplishments.  Marriage wasn't even on my radar, let alone kids.  Yet ten years later I found myself the married mother of 3 children.  Do I regret a single moment of it?  Never in a million years.  And, though I have never been a particularly religious person, I do know that there is a reason for all that we have gone through over the past couple of years.  It has certainly shown us how strong our marriage is!
In the end, I move forward.  I don't often get the chance to write about how I am feeling (as you may have noticed from my conspicuous absence from the blogosphere), but that helps, too.  So today was my one out of 30, and tomorrow will be one of the other 29.  I will work my way out of my funk today, and recognize how lucky I really am.  I will once again look past Isabella's scar and focus on the present and future, not the past, no matter how recent that past may be.  I will spend my days cherishing the time I have with my beautiful girls, or at least the 62% of the day that is bickering and whining free (due to the fact that they have to sleep sometime).  I will cheer the times when Bella isn't in a world of misery from her medications, and secretly love the extra cuddles I get from her clinginess. 
I can do that because I have my beautiful girls to love, and I have Bella to cuddle.  These three blessings are a thousand times more Alumni Quarterly brag worthy than any other accomplishment that a different fork in the path of my life would have lead me to.