This morning as I drove to work, I complained to myself about how horrible the winter driving conditions were. I took a picture through my windshield with the intent of blogging about the woes of winter weather and block heaters and 30 below wind chills.
Later in the morning I took a picture of my triple espresso Starbucks latte and posted it on Instagram. I included some kind of cynical caption referencing the necessity for extra caffeine in my day. It was only moments later that my pager went off and I scurried to a c-section to help resuscitate a baby, like we do for every c-section.
By the time I got back to my triple espresso Starbucks latte 3 hours later, it was cold. I picked it up and downed what was left as I sat down in exasperation. In that moment I was thankful.
I was thankful for my two healthy, crazy, devilish children.
I was thankful that I listened just a little closer to that baby’s chest.
I was thankful that I was not the parents who had their dreams of cuddling a healthy baby shattered as I explained to them the significance of their baby’s chest x-ray.
I was thankful that the worst part of my day was that I had to drive for an hour in crappy winter conditions.