I get to shake my head and question 'why?' along with the rest of the world and then turn my attention back to my own beautiful kindergartner.
I get to shed tears in sympathy and then go back to blending every vegetable under the sun and stocking the freezer for bub's next month.
I get to physically ache at the very thought and then go back to picking Lego pieces out from under my feet.
I get to wonder how you get through the day you lay your little one to rest and then return to the piles of laundry that represent the ones I love.
I get to look at all those gifts under our tree, confident that there won't be a single one laying unopened on Christmas Day.
I get to be exhausted, frustrated, overwhelmed, overjoyed and elated by the presence of my children in my life.
We can't be held back by fear.
We can't apologise for our own blessings.
But we can be consciously aware of just how damn fortunate we are to have our babies here under our feet, in our faces and in our arms.