On Friday, July 28, my life changed profoundly for the second time in thirteen months.

Leah’s brother, Callum, came into the world healthy, strong, and screaming by repeat cesarean section at 38 weeks gestation.

Much to my amazement, all of the best case scenarios that I hadn’t dared hope for unfolded in a matter of hours: He cried heartily as my OBGYN removed him from my body. He received a score of 9 on his Apgar tests. I was able to hold him skin-to-skin while still being stitched up on the operating table. And, just as I had secretly hoped, he was born with the same glorious crown of full, dark hair that his sister had.

Now, we are home, and my heart is so full.

It is full of gratitude each time he wakes me up in the middle of the night to be fed or changed, as it reminds me how privileged I am to have a healthy, growing child.

It is full of awe each time he curls up on my chest after a feeding, as it reminds me how miraculous it is that my body created this delicate, beautiful life.

It is full of joy each time he opens his eyes and glances in my general direction, as it reminds me of all the cuddles, kisses, and “I love you’s” that I hope to share with him in the coming years.

But my heart is also full of grief and sadness. It was beyond surreal to be back in the same hospital where I spent 33 precious hours with my firstborn daughter under profoundly different circumstances. It reminded me of the moments I spent holding her skin-to-skin, hearing her newborn cries, and marveling at her beauty—all the while knowing that her life was slowly slipping away, and that there was nothing I could do to save her.

Now that Callum and I are home, each moment of joy I experience with him is also a bittersweet reminder of what I missed out on with his sister. It seems that laughter and tears come to me in equal measure these days, often at the same time.

With each passing day I am reminded that nothing is easy about mothering after loss. It is a tumultuous journey wherein life’s most beautiful moments are also filled with heartache and longing for what will never be. But it is my journey, and for now I am beyond thankful for the two beautiful children it has given me along the way.