I’m Learning to Appreciate My Blessings Instead of Worrying About What Might Go Wrong

home insemination Kit

When everything in life is going splendidly—like, picture-perfect splendid—you’d think the only thing left to do is soak it all in. Yet, I somehow managed to do the complete opposite. Thankfully, I’ve discovered I’m not alone in this mindset, which is a relief for anyone else who feels the same way.

I’m fortunate to have a charming, fun, and utterly loving partner, four delightful kids, a cozy home, food in the pantry, and a heap of love and health. Honestly, I have it all. Most days, I’m one blissfully content individual.

But then there are those pesky negative thoughts that creep in. For years, I’ve kept these feelings bottled up, worried about how they might be perceived. I refer to them as “intrusions,” which seem to strike at the worst possible moments. They come in a predictable pattern:

1. I am genuinely super lucky and blessed.
2. Something catastrophic is about to happen to my family.

I can’t help but see the struggles and heartaches faced by others around me, while I’m busy enjoying life. Sure, it’s not perfect, but our little imperfections barely register when I shift my perspective. Instead of counting my blessings, I often find myself bracing for calamity, convinced that misfortune is lurking around the corner—waiting for the other shoe to drop. And drop it did, or so I thought, during a particularly harrowing New Year’s Day.

My brother’s family and I were at our parents’ house, enjoying a festive day together. After dinner, my mother called for me in that stern tone she used when I was in trouble as a child. I rushed upstairs to find her cradling my two-year-old, his face telling me everything was wrong. I shouted for someone to call 911 as I rushed to him, panic coursing through me when he didn’t respond.

I instinctively checked his mouth for any obstructions, flipped him over, and gave him a few thumps on the back. Nothing. I laid him on the floor, and as I saw his color drain away, I was convinced I was losing him. I began CPR, praying for a miracle. My brother and I were desperately pleading for him to hold on as our father shouted at dispatch, “Get here NOW!”

My other kids and nephew stood by, frozen in fear. And then, just when I thought all hope was lost, my son blinked. He was coming back! I scooped him up again and managed a sweep of his mouth. Thankfully, he gagged, which was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. Just as the emergency responders arrived, he started to come around.

As it turned out, my CPR skills weren’t the hero of the day—he hadn’t choked. Instead, he had suffered a febrile seizure due to a sudden spike in fever—something I hadn’t even considered. Had he shown any signs beforehand, I might have realized sooner what was happening. Now he’s back to his usual self, although he rolls his eyes at my constant temperature checks. I can’t help it; I’m terrified of another fever sneaking up on me.

While I fought to revive my seemingly lifeless child, I experienced a moment that felt surreal—a realization that shook me to my core: I could lose him. I begged and pleaded in my heart for him to stay with us. It was a moment of pure terror, and I’m still working through the trauma of it all. The flashbacks are fewer now, and though the shadows of that day linger, I’m slowly finding healing.

This experience has taught me an invaluable lesson. Happiness isn’t contingent on some imaginary scale of balance; it exists independently. My earlier mindset was a misconception that kept me from fully enjoying the good in my life. Now, with the stark reminder of life’s fragility, I refuse to waste a moment not savoring my blessings.

So here I am, ready to embrace every joyous moment while I count my blessings.