Today, a year after the worst day of my life, I can still tell you that miracles exist. I don't know how I can say that, given what Brandon and I have been through, but I can. I believe it with all my heart. Bad things happen to good people. Maybe the good people don't the miracles they deserve, but I think part of that miracle is that the good people can still believe in things like miracles. That we, on every level, have to dig and search for a reason to get out of bed and breath every day, yet we are still able to find good in the world. That somehow we are able to smile each day and see the silver lining to (some) things.
Living without your child doesn't necessarily make you miraculous. But the love you have for them does.
Mothers of living children would probably tell you that looking at their baby makes their heart burst. As loss parents, all we have is the thought of our babies, but somehow that alone is enough. We don't have the memories or the sounds or the milestones, but we have so much love in our heart that even on the worst of days, we feel our hearts bursting.
I do believe in miracles, and my children are proof that they do exist.