Today was one of those ordinary days that didn’t stay ordinary for long.

I was doing something simple cleaning out Austin’s clothes. He’s in a growth spurt, so the t-shirts no longer fit, and I started sorting through what to keep, what to pass along, what to store away. Just another task on the to-do list.

And then I found it.

A tiny shirt that read Promoted to Big Brother.

I sat there longer than I expected, holding it. Staring at it. Letting the weight of what we once imagined settle in again. Back in September, when we found out Ethan’s embryo had taken and everything felt hopeful, I bought those shirts. I bought sleepers. I bought little reminders of a future that felt so certain at the time.

Grief has a way of sneaking into the most mundane moments. It doesn’t announce itself it shows up quietly, folded between baby clothes, in the middle of an afternoon chore.

What makes this season even more layered is walking through it alongside Austin. He’s learning emotions now in a new way. When he sees me cry, his face changes, concerned, tender. Sometimes he comes over and tries to wipe my tears. And in those moments, my heart breaks and heals all at once.

I want to be authentic with him. I don’t want to pretend that sadness doesn’t exist. But I also don’t want him to carry worry that isn’t his to bear. So I finish putting away the clothes. I shift gears. I get him ready for bed.

And then we pray.

We thank God for another day. For Austin. For Ethan. For Ben. For breath and time and love. And sometimes I cry again quietly, trying to balance gratitude with grief, hope with heartache, strength with honesty.

This is what the day-to-day looks like right now. Holding space for the future we thought we’d have, without letting it steal the present we’re living. Allowing emotions to come, but not letting them take over. Choosing to be real, while still choosing hope.

Some days that balance feels steady. Other days it feels fragile.

But today, it looked like a little boy wiping his mama’s tears, a bedtime prayer whispered through emotion, and trusting God with both what is and what might never be.

And for today, that is enough.