Meant To Be

It occurred to me last night how different our lives might look if some other choices had been made or perhaps if our path had led us somewhere else. I was putting Isabelle's Halloween pictures into an already bulging photo album, surrounded on the couch by three other albums, all full of Isabelle (it took me a bit to find which one I was currently filling. Hey, don't pick on me too bad.... at least I am keeping up with filling albums). There were even more albums of her still put away, and I had to laugh to myself since the kid is not even five, and she has more photo albums at this point then Clay and I do as a couple, and we've been married almost ten years and together for nearly thirteen. If I got into the countless photos of her left unprinted on "Shutterfly" the number would be staggering.

But my thoughts weren't about pictures. They were about how this one little person, who was then currently playing the billionth round of "Pretty, Pretty Princess" with her father, had so thoroughly and completely taken over our lives...and not in a bad way. I watched Clay spin the pink, plastic spinner, move his princess playing piece and dutifully pick up his blue earring and clip it on his lobe to which Isabelle cried, "Mommy, look at Daddy!" Clay didn't even flinch, just gave me a slight lopsided grin. Who else would my tough guy husband do this for? Simply put: No one but his daughter. What did we used to do on Halloween before we had Isabelle? What did we do on an evening like this? It must have seemed empty, and looking back and recalling how badly we wanted a baby, how much it hurt when we lost them, I know it was.

As is typically the case, my child has a way of summing it all up like no one else. I give you the following anecdote:

Last weekend I was driving to my parents. Isabelle was in the back keeping up her running dialogue, telling me about school, her friends, songs, making up stories for me, and asking me how to spell.... well..... everything. But I loved it. So I told her so and that I was so glad she was my daughter because I would be lonely without her. Her vivacious eyes met mine in the rear view mirror and Isabelle stated very matter-of-factly, "Yup, God thought you'd like me." Blinking back the sudden tears that pricked my eyes and smiling a huge grin at her, I could not help but think, Wow, did he ever get that one right.