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There is a very fine line between life and death, one that isn’t always easy to recognize. What is easy, though, is taking for granted the gift of intuition. On February 16, I trusted my instincts over my reasoning and have been permanently altered as a person – and as a parent – as a result.

I can’t say exactly how I knew, only that I did.

The past two weeks have been incredibly intense, and I’m only barely beginning to be able to wrap my mind around the magnitude of it all. It is my hope that as I begin to distill this experience into words, that I will be able to have a better understanding of what I went through, and why.

When February began, I had a sense that it was going to be a busy month, but for very different reasons than what it turned out to be. And here we are, the first day of March, and it seems so surreal that I don’t still have a baby in my belly or a home birth to look forward to. Instead, I have a tiny guy to nuzzle and a sparkly ring on my finger, two of the greatest gifts this life has ever given me.

What surprises me the most about this whole thing is that I’m not sad, really, only nostalgic. Everything happened so suddenly, and I wasn’t exactly prepared. Thankfully, with the love and support of my precious family and dearest friends, I have managed to survive what is easily the most tragic and triumphant time of my life.

I have no inclination as to what this month shall bring, but I’m thinking it’s going to be a good one. And if I’ve learned anything at all from all of this, it’s that my gut feelings are usually spot on.

In that case, I say hello to you, March! Show me what you got.

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