(Disclaimer: May not be suitable for those of a strong Christian persuasion. You have been warned.)
What if my daughter is not a miracle? What if she was an "Oh sh*t" moment in a Wal-Mart bathroom stall when that second line showed up. What if she was the hardest decision I ever had to make. What if I knew I never wanted kids and here I am having one and trying to figure out how that's going to work out.
On the flip side. What if my daughter was the hardest struggle I've ever had to face trying to conceive. What if she's the product of some amazing medicines, scientific processes, and trackers to be able to get pregnant. What if she is the tears of joy and the endless thanks given to the doctors who made her possible.
Would either situation mean I'm any less grateful or excited for her? I don't think so. I'll never tell her she's my miracle or my blessing. Instead, I'm so in awe of what my body is capable of. I am growing a freaking human! And whether I cried of joy or of fear, that is something pretty incredible. After so many years of evolution, we have come from single cells to cells that reproduce and can reproduce another tiny version of our mixed DNA.
I'll tell her instead that she is one of the most wonderful things to happen to me, something that I didn't think would ever happen. I'll tell her she's the product of love and of some really awesome biology. I'll tell her she's loved immensely and infinitely by both her parents. And I think that that is enough.