Actually, I have lots of regrets at the ripe old age of 31. Choices I should have made, action I should have taken, things (and people) I should have avoided. I should have been braver, smarter, better than I was.

I often think about those parallel lives, and use what’s left of my imagination to explore them.

But one thing holds true – if I accomplish nothing else in my life, I do not regret having Molly. Oh, I may complain on and on about the frustrations I feel at not being able to calm her tummy troubles, or get her to sleep. I often throw my hands up in the air, saying “I give up,” and yell that I am running off to warmer climes. I may lose my cool (and probably do too often).

Yet when the tears dry and my blood pressure returns to normal, I look at her and I can’t imagine a world, my world, without her.

I hope, when all is said and done, that counts for something.