Why I Believe What I Believe

Most of you know me as a pretty logical guy, too smart to believe in nonsensical things such as horrorscopes, ghosts, psychics and anything else people can conjure up.
But there are some things I do believe in.
First of all, I believe in me. I believe what happens to me is up to me, because of what I do.
I also believe in luck, but I also believe that luck favors the prepared.
And through a life spent marveling at things that happen for no explicable reason, I've developed a healthy admiration for the force that put Mark Feinsand on the same plane as Master Bates two days after I e-mailed MB to ask him to reach out to Feinsand. And then got him to stumble upon my blog, after MB challenged this mysterious force to prove its existence. I call that mystical force "The Universe."
I first started to believe in the Universe after the lowest moment in my life. I've written about most of this before but never in this way, so bear with me.
After Mrs. Poop had a miscarriage we weren't sure how long it would be before they let us try again. When we were given the go-ahead we were ecstatic that she got knocked up again so quickly. But then disaster struck. We went for what was supposed to be a routine ultrasound and just like the first time, there was no heartbeat and they couldn't find the baby.
After two of the hardest days ever, we had an appointment on a Friday morning for an ultrasound to confirm the miscarriage. Then on Thursday, Mrs. Poop was scapegoated at work for a problem that had nothing to do with her. They threatened to reassign her to another area of the hospital (it never happened, so don't worry), and then a few hours later we were scheduled to get final confirmation of another miscarriage.
You probably can't even imagine how she felt, losing her second baby, and her job over the span of a couple of days.
But a funny thing happened on the way to rock bottom.
We heard a heartbeat. The baby we now know as Chase was there the whole time, just chilling in Mrs. Poop's uterus, his heart beating, a sound so wonderful, it brought tears to my eyes.
Later that day the universe sent Mrs. Poop an e-mail (using me as its conduit) which said "Sorry about your job. But you can have your baby back. Love, The Universe."
I know that we are all very lucky in the way things turned out because I wouldn't trade Chase for any child in the world. And I will gladly worship whatever mysterious force brought him to us.