Six years ago, I walked through Pottery Barn Kids and cried.

I was there to purchase a baby gift for a friend who had just given birth to her second child. I looked around the store and soaked in the bedding, the cute rugs, the furniture...cute and quaint things that screamed Babies!

I was just lost in hopelessness. Utterly and completely unable to see how and when we would ever have kids of our own. So I moved through that store slowly and touched everything in sight. When I finally purchased the stuffed dog rocking chair for my friend, I cried. When I drove to the back of the store to have it loaded into my car, my heart plunged. When I tied the pink bow around its neck, I felt desperate pangs of envy. I hated myself for being so petty, so hurt, so barren.

Six years later, we have the most loving, sweet and precious child that we get to raise. We play kickball in the house, make cookies, use the computer together and have water wars in the bathroom. My son frequently empties drawers throughout the house, he draws on walls and he curiously inspects every new item that comes through the door. Last night, he threw up all over me in bed. And lately, he's been grabbing my hand and telling me that He Loves Me.

I love being a Mom.

And I am so thankful that it happened. To us. Before it was too late. Before I gave up and stopped trying.

I've been thinking a lot about the lesson in all of that. Embracing the concept that good things happen over time. Working hard to understand how important it is to never lose hope.

At the edge of despair lies joyful times.

Hold on.
Hold on.
Hold on.

I'll try to hold my high this week when I'm told that my job has been eliminated. I'll do my best to take it in stride, and I'll look forward to what is Next.

Because joy and peace of mind are possible. It isn't too late and it certainly ain't over. Wonderful is still out there within reach.