Messy

I've been thinking a lot about this Blog and what it's named. Been thinking about Art and Life and all that jazz.

The other day my amazing Husband picked me up some gesso from the store so I could re-paint a few things. As I was using it, little bits of paint splattered onto my hand, and then got wiped onto my sleeve. I was struck by the thought that I don't have a pair of paint pants right now...and I got sad.

Art can be so messy. I love when it is. I love when there are flecks of paint on my nails and on my clothes. I love the process of art. I love that you start with something and work until you create something new and unique that you like. It's a lot of fun.

So often when people look at a piece of art they see the finished piece. Something whole. Put together. They consider it beautiful. As they should, art is meant to be looked at and enjoyed.

When I look at pieces of artwork, I see the love and the process behind it. I wonder at the hours it took to make something, the work that went into it, the layers and layers of paint. I wonder if the artist thought about scrapping a project entirely and starting again. I wonder if they ever hated a piece only to have loads of people beg them to leave it alone.

Art is a messy, beautiful process.

Life is a messy, beautiful process.

God Art.

I wonder if He looks down at our lives and loves our messy beautiful selves. I wonder if He knows we are works in progress and cringes sometimes while He works on us.

It's a quickly going to be a new year.

I'll be honest, I'm not looking forward to it.

I'm not looking forward to the fight my son will have. I'm not looking forward to leaving my girl while I go to have him. I'm not looking forward to it, I'm just not.

I'm looking forward to finding out how God will move. I'm looking forward to finding out how close Blair and I will come through this.

If I look at this past year as a canvas, as an art project, I would paint over parts and start again. I would paint over the loss of yet another baby we didn't get to know. I would paint over the days this summer where I could barely make it to the bathroom before getting sick. I would paint over the day that I went to have an ultrasound and they "found" something...when I was alone in my car, crying because I didn't understand and didn't know who to call or what to do.

Here's the deal though, just because you paint over something, doesn't mean it goes away. Those layers will always be there. It will always be part of that painting.

I'm marveling that despite my messes, despite the long process, I am still becoming God's Art. I am still a masterpiece. He loves me, right here, right now. Even on my worst days (and believe me, days when I have to call a friend to come change my girl because I literally can't stop throwing up...that's a worst day).

It's important to remember I think. That Art is Messy. That even God's Art gets messy.

That I am still a Mess.

But with every day, with every brush of the Savior's paint brush I become more and more beautiful.

I've been trying to think of the best way to start this post. I've had a hard time with it. I don't articulate well these days and I don't ever want to sound unkind. 

We had an appointment yesterday and I haven't really talked about it (except for a select group of people). I know that I don't owe anyone anything, updates, thoughts, feelings...I share because I want to. However, I share when I want to. 

Seeing Tinman's cardiac pediatrician always just throws me off. It always just sorta sucks. I hate the echo-cardiograms and the ultrasounds, I hate visibly seeing his heart up on the screen. It's pretty clear at this point. You can see where the left of part of his heart doesn't work. Having Blair there helped so much yesterday and I'm thankful he was there. It still throws me off and hurts my heart. 

I was just done yesterday. I just wanted to ignore the whole world and cuddle Ellie and snuggle next to Blair. Nothing new happened, we didn't receive more or less information, I just wanted to be home and forget anything else existed. 

I'm having a hard time right now being graceful. Tactful. People wanted to know how it went and how we were doing and it's so sweet, so many people care, and I'm so so so thankful. Some days though...some days, I just...I'm angry. I was angry yesterday. At everyone. At no one. At myself. At any person who dared to message me. Wonderful people who care so much about Blair and I...and I just wanted to be mean. 

I didn't say much of anything to anyone, because it's very strange for me to feel this way. I'm used to people not knowing what to say. People did that after our miscarriages. People did that when I lost 50 pounds with Ellie. I realize people think I'm strong and that I'm handling this well and that they just don't know what to say and they care so they want to say something. 

My son will never have a normal heart. These surgeries prolong his life and give us so much more time than other people in the past have had, but he will always need to be careful. He will always need to be monitored. Unless someone gives him a whole new heart one day he will never be "fixed". Please don't say to me, at least there are surgeries. 

What terrible words...at least. 

Those words, never, in any situation, make someone feel better. 

I am thankful for the time we will have and already have had with our son. I am thankful that they will work on his heart and give us more time. I am thankful that medicine has come this far. 

I am scared. I am scared he won't make it through that first surgery. I am scared that the right ventricle of his heart will decide it's too much work and wimp out too (which, I found out yesterday is something we need to be watching for). I am scared that he will never want to nurse from my breast. I am scared that Ellie will scream every time she has to leave me, because she realizes that Mommy doesn't get to come home. 

I am scared and thankful and so full of so many emotions that some days it's all too much. 

I wish my Mother in Law could be home when he's born, so her calm voice of reason and her "we're going to make a plan and make it happen" attitude will help me on my emotional days. 

I wish I knew if after he's born if I will be able to go back to work and I don't know that yet. 

I wish that I didn't have to look into being induced because if for any reason I went into labor on my own and had my son in the car, it would be bad bad bad news bears. 

I wish and hope and pray a lot of things right now. 

Appointment days end up being bad days. Yesterday I needed to calm and quiet myself and sit at Jesus feet and tell him all these things and more. Because I know this will bring me and Blair and even Ellie closer to God. I know that we will reap in joy after these tears and hard times. I know that no matter what I feel God is holding me closely and whispering his love for me.  I know that it's ok to admit how scared I am, because once I admit that God can take it and remind me, "Fear not, for I am with you, I will not forsake you". 

I talk about this a lot. I'm going to keep talking about it. I know some people will not want to listen and that's ok. Waiting for Tinman to be born is like being stuck in a weird limbo where I know what's going to happen...and I'm just...just waiting for it. It's not my favorite place to be. 

I don't mean to offend anyone or upset them when I say that I might get a little distant from people. understand that as much as I push people away your support and love mean the world to me during this time. I just...I just don't always want to talk about it. It's so much easier to write about this all once I've had time to process this than to have to talk about it when I'm grocery shopping at Walmart. 

The more information we gather and the closer I get to welcoming my son earth side the crazier I feel I become. 

Please please please, I beg for your patience. That's all I know to ask for right now.

A Christmas Time Thought

Every now and again I have this thought, "Lord, why my son? Why my family? Why us? Why me?"

I can't help it, it's in my nature (the human part of it anyways). I've been working on taking my thoughts captive (shout out to Katharine for holding me accountable for real and entering into an awesome discipleship relationship with me) and the last time I had this thought, we were in church.

It popped in there while we were singing Christmas songs. It's a normal happening in December. You hear them all over. When did I stop listening to them though?

We sing about a King come down from His throne, about a Father letting go of His son, of angels, and Emmanuel. On the radio we question, Mary, did you know?

Did she?

I think about Mary a lot right now. Especially after having Ellie, even after we were pregnant with our first baby. I think about the way the Nativity is portrayed and how it all always seems too perfect to me.

Labor was awesome, but it was hard. I looked a hot mess afterwards. Most woman do. I believe Mary did. When they laid Ellie on my chest in all her grossness and glory, it was awesome. I wonder if that's how it looked for Mary.

I wonder if she had problems getting Jesus to latch on and nurse. I wonder if Joseph knew what to do to help her while in labor, like Blair knew how to help me. I wonder if a Midwife was found to attend Mary or if she went for it like some of my friends have. I wonder when she started crying, because Lord knows, at some point she probably did.

I wonder if she thought about these things while Jesus was on the cross. I wonder if it ever entered her mind "Why my son?"

How could she know while she was in the throes of laboring to bring Him to this world that He would save it? How could she know that while she nursed Him as an infant, I would pray to Him for strength when my son was diagnosed with something that, though can be helped with surgeries, would affect him for the rest of his life? I don't think she had any idea. I don't think she could have carried that...

I think Mary was like me. I think she had her moments. I think she had good days and bad days and watching her son die on a cross for loads of people who she didn't even know might not have been a good day for her. I hope she took her thoughts captive though. I hope she caught that one and changed it like I did.

Why my son?

Why NOT my son? Why CAN'T God use this for His glory? Why WOULDN'T He chose my little family to point to Him during this crazy ride?

Believe me, I have my days and moments. I talk about this a lot right now. I'm researching Congenital Heart Defects and Hydro-plastic Left Heart Syndrome and finding out that it's really not that common. I'm finding out that yes, there are surgeries to help our son, but that he might always have issues.

I am going to fight though, to keep in mind that God does what He wants. And my response is to bring Glory to Him. No matter the circumstances.

Or maybe today was just a good day.
Maybe tomorrow won't be.

Maybe the day Jesus was crucified was a bad day for Mary.
But Oh Man...Oh Man, she was around the day He came back. 

And that, my friends, was a good day indeed. 

Recording this Journey

What a strange journey we are embarking on...

First we were like, let's get married, yayyy! And then we did. And then we decided (kinda) to have kids, and we got pregnant and were like, yayyy! And then we lost that precious baby...and God reconstructed our hearts and our minds. And we got pregnant again, and made it through the first trimester, and we were like yayy!! And then I got sick...but we had the most precious baby girl, so it didn't matter. And then we got pregnant again again, and then...we lost that wonderful baby as well. I went numb for a little while. Until we found out, for the fourth time, we were pregnant. We held our breath to make it past the first trimester and we did...and then.

And then seems to be our words. Maybe there will always be an And Then in our marriage. And then this happens or that happens or doesn't happen, who knows what our expectations will be from here on out.

I'm figuring out that nothing is certain. Nothing is set in stone. Everything is left up to my God and He's got His ideas of how things will go.

I feel like Blair and I are reading a book...watching our lives unfold together. We are the characters and God is writing along, throwing out some curve balls and plot twists. But my little brother likes to quote something "When God throws you a curve ball, don't duck, you just might miss something" (Yes Zeb, I quoted Extreme Days...get over yourself...what am I talking about, he doesn't read these! haha). Every curve ball God has thrown us has brought us deeper into relationship with Himself. Has revealed something we would have missed about Who He Is if we hadn't gone through it.

My son having HLHS (Hydro-plastic Left Heart Syndrome) is, somehow, going to bring us both closer to God.

But the truth is, right now, I don't see how. I don't know how. All I know is being scared and pushing through. All I know is taking day by day. All I know is praying. All I know is reminding myself and asking Blair to remind me over and over again that we will be ok. All I know is that I finally reached out to a support group, and while it was a good idea to do so, it's also hard to see their pictures and hear their stories and know that that is what is in store for us.

I am worried about Ellie while I'm gone with V (the affectionate nickname for our son), I am worried about Blair while I'm gone, I am worried about our bills, I am worried about people who are also going through hard things. I am worried people will not want to come see us hours away at the hospital, I am worried that people will stop inviting me to things. I am just worried. I am.

I don't let those worries consume me...at least not everyday, because I still have the most adorable little girl who needs me and right now, I need her. I cuddle her and rock her and cry sometimes when I do it, because soon, she's gonna be with Daddy an awful lot and I am going to miss her something fierce. (Let's be honest, I miss her when Blair and I go on dates and leave her with my parents...)

I'm trying to write more. I'm trying to record this. It's a journey and Lord Willing I will be on the other side of this mountain and won't it be awesome to see how we got through?

Won't it be awesome to see how my awesome God uses this for His Glory?

See, today, is a good day. And I need to remember that. I need to remember that God will see us through, I need to remember that He has a plan, I need to remember that today on December 8th, I was ok and at peace.

Just like I remember that last Thursday I  was not ok. When I saw his small little heart up on the screen a lump rose in my throat. When the Dr encouraged me to be near the hospital he will need surgery at I felt my eyes well up. When she asked me why we wouldn't opt for surgery while he's in the uterus and I explained that the risks, his death, were just to great, and she scoffed slightly, I was not ok. Just like I remember that yesterday when I reached out to other HLHS moms and dads and saw pictures of their tiny newborns hooked to tubes and machines and the scars...I was not ok.

Day by Day. Week by Week. I am going to commit to recording V's journey. I am going to remember...

God is good. All the time.
All the time. God is good.

I Finally Got This Outta My Head

Where we live, we have cluster mail boxes. The other night after a long day at work (over five hours is long for my 29 week pregnant self) I stopped there, got the mail, and then sat in my car. Then I cried for a minute before going home. 

My best friend from high school and continued best friend used to live on this mountain. I realized if she still did I would have driven up the hills to her house, crawled into her lap, and cried there with her. She would have let me, no questions asked. It's the nature of our relationship. (I miss her..) If I had the money and the time, I'd get in my car and drive the hourish drive it takes to get to her so I could cry in her lap. Maybe color a little bit. Maybe watch some Disney. Maybe eat Chinese food. Maybe we would talk about why I want to cry. Maybe we wouldn't. The point is, she would be there. She would do everything and nothing for me. 

And that is exactly what I need right now. 

We (speaking in general and not meaning all) Christians like to...do. We like to make meals, and clean houses, and then, we really really like to tell each other stuff. We like to tell each other about God's Plan, and Hope and Peace and Prayer, and how every thing will be ok. We like to remind each other all the things that some of us have heard a hundred million times. At times, yes, this is needed. 

But oh my friends, sometimes, I just need someone to sit with me and let me color. Or cry. Or to not think. Or to forget. Or to admit something deep and dark and then just have a hug. 

Why are we (speaking in general and not meaning all) so bad at this? (Note: I include myself because I catch myself doing this too..)

We found out about our sons heart defect in October. Since then it's been intense. There was ONE afternoon I couldn't distinctly remember feeling him move and it took all my will power not to go to the ER to make sure his little heart hadn't stopped beating. I lay in bed at night praying that I won't have any more nightmares...they wake me up and I shake and cry and I can't help but replay them in my head over and over no matter how hard I try to forget them. They are realistic and terrifying and have led me to one conclusion: yes, I am scared. 

I am. I'm scared. I've been running over the list of people in my head who would listen to me say this without telling me all the other things. My list was very short. At the top of my list was the best friend from high school who lives an hourish away...an hour right now feels like three million hours, the phone seems trivial, and emailing her this is just not the same. I miss her. I miss her silence. I miss her coloring pages and huge box of crayons and her fur babies and her quiet ways. I miss someone just listening to me. 

I don't need to be told again that God has a wonderful plan. He does. I'm so excited to see how He will use my son's life as a testimony to Himself! I know (for serious) that people are surrounding us and him with prayer. I know that when he is born and I spend lots of time at the hospital with him during his first heart surgery that Ellie will be loved and watched and taken care of. I know these things. I know these things. 

I am still scared. I won't give voice to all my fears, because my fears are worries about things that I can't control. They are, however, there. They just are. They exist. And that is okay with me. 

I just don't always tell people because it's not okay with them. 

I guess you could call this a public declaration of where I am. I guess you could call this a public cry to Christians to just listen sometimes. We don't have all the answers. We don't always have to, and sometimes, it's best just to be silent. We all have feelings.We don't have to be scared of other peoples feelings. At times we just need to admit those feelings, and have others be okay with them. 

Be okay with the fact that I'm a little scared. Be okay with knowing I don't need answers. Be okay with saying "Yeah, the whole things sucks" and moving on. 

It's taken me weeks and weeks to write this. Taken me weeks and weeks to admit that this is how I feel. Weeks, because everyone tells me how strong I am and how well I'm handling the whole thing. I'm not really strong and I'm not really handling anything, I'm just living. 

That's what we're all doing. We're just living. 

And that's okay. 

God is Bigger than the Boogie Man...

Tonight was one of those nights.

You know, where the kid doesn't want to sleep and you got a lot done but now you are tired and you know the kid is tired and gosh darn it if only that silly kid would go to sleep...

So you get a warm bottle and then you do the unthinkable. You turn on a show. You search through for a show that you would actually want your kid to watch.

Said kid is 14 months old. Shows help, but don't hold too much attention. (Ok fine, the show is for you, but whatever.)

Tonight we turned on a good old Veggie Tales.

As Junior watched a show he probably shouldn't be watching and Bob and Larry came to his room to sing to him...the words to the song that I've known and heard so many times resonated with me.

God is bigger than the Boogie Man.

God is bigger than the monsters on TV.

When I was little and scared I would go crawl into bed with my Daddy. Always my Daddy. I rarely remember crawling into bed next to my Mom. I would crawl up next to him (maybe crying) and he would wrap his arms around me and I would feel safe. Everything bad would be chased away, just because my Daddy wrapped his arms around. Because he was bigger than anything bad.

Now I'm older. Now I have a kid and another one cooking. Now my husband works later in the evenings and I go to bed with him.

Now my Boogie Monsters have taken on new names, adult names, names like Doubt and Failure and Fear and Debt and Money. Now my fears extend to realizing that if anyone came in this house unwanted, I would die before I let anyone hurt my daughter. Now my fears extend to another human being. Three really.

My boogie monsters are dreams that wake me in the night, scared that I won't carry to term, Scared that this labor won't go as well, scared that I will mess up whatever plans God has for this new baby and for my daughter.

They are giants that stand in front of my eyes. Remind me of the times I lose patience, of the times when I fail my friends, of the times when I didn't do good enough. These are the monsters of adulthood.

Tonight as I rocked my girl and prayed she would fall asleep and listened to vegetables sing about not being afraid, my heart was encouraged.

God is so much bigger than those things. He is so much bigger than Fears and Doubts and Hurts and Failures. He is bigger. And like the tomato said "He's watching out for you and me." Such simple truths told to children, to remind them.

I am a child. I am His child. Sometimes I need silly songs to remind me of things that are true.

I needed this reminder. That God is bigger than the boogie man, that He is bigger than MY boogie men.

So I thought maybe someone else needed to be reminded too.

Maybe you need to know that God is Bigger. So so so much bigger.

And like Junior said, "He's on my team!"

Where I Am

More and more recently as I start to focus on relationships and people, I have come to see that my life is getting...simpler.

We all lead complex lives. We have things we MUST do and places we MUST go and things that MUST be accomplished. To be functioning adults this is true. It is true that we need to work to feed our family, to take care of what God has given us.

I can't help but wonder though...am I giving up the best things in pursuit of the good?

Sometimes, I leave dishes in the sink at night. Sometimes, it is better for me to take a nap with my girl and not fold laundry. Sometimes, she hides things and they go missing under the couch for months. Sometimes, well, always, her toys are scattered about...taking what would otherwise be a clean space and transforming it into a somewhat messier lived in space.

It is good to clean your house. It is good to make it functioning. It is good to not have ants in your kitchen. And yet...and yet...

I don't want to be so consumed with making my house picture perfect that I don't stop to dance with Ellie while she dances. I don't want to be so intent on folding laundry that I don't put her on our (unmade) bed to throw her around and hear her sweet sweet giggles. Those things are the best. Those things will be treasured in my heart. The good things can be put on hold for a moment to stop and savor the best things...

I have been making an effort to be more Intentional. Intentional about the time I spend with God, the time I spend with my husband, the time I spend with Ellie, the time I spend with my physical and spiritual family. When a person is laid on my heart, I let them know. When I feel the need to STOP and pray for someone, I do. When Blair is gone now at nights, instead of watching a show, or reading a book I clean things up or I read my Bible.

I am finding that life has become simpler.

I feel at Peace. I feel Joy. I am able to empathize more with those who are hurting. I am able to spend more time with Blair. I am finding my cup is filled, and with it filled I am able to pour it our freely to others.

I am not perfect. I make mistakes. Loads of them. But I am learning. I am trusting. I am being filled day in and day out with the Holy Spirit which is helping me through another rough pregnancy.

I still throw up a lot. I still have a hard time keeping food down a lot of days. Someone today asked me "Well why do it then? Why not get your tubes tied?" Because in this case, I am not a selfish person. Mothers are incredibly selfless...we give and we give and we cry out to God because there are times when we feel there is nothing left to offer. I keep telling the Lord "Thank you for being stronger in my weakness." I especially tell Him this when I curled around our toilet, asking Him to see me through this, because I KNOW that the end result is so so so worth it. I put aside myself, I die to myself, every. Single. Day. And I simply follow. I simply allow myself to be led and fed and built up by the body of believers. I am humble, and I admit those days that are my worst. "You can do this! You can rock this pregnancy!" someone commented on my Facebook within the last week. Simple words that filled me, so that I could in turn feed and fill others.

The more intentional I become about spending time alone with the Lord and more intentional I get about spending time with my community of believers the more in Love I am falling with my Savior.

And isn't that the point? To fall more and more in Love with the Savior?

And then in turn pour that out to those who don't know that Love?

This is my heart right now. This is where I am.

Where are you?

Words of Life

"In the beginning was the Word, and the was with God and the Word was God."

We were spoken into existence with words. God spoke and therefore, we were, in all our ugly, beautiful, crazy, mundane, human glory.

Words. God used words to give us life.

Words hold so much weight and power. They have the power to heal, to tear down, to build up, to bring people to their knees. I'm reminded of a Dr. Who episode, "I can bring you down with words...Doesn't she look tired?" (For the record, I have no clue if I quoted that right, I'm not the Dr.Who fan, that's the husband.)

We are told as children that sticks and stones can break our bones, but words can never hurt us. What a load of crap. Someones words, carefully placed, can resonate in our heads for weeks and weeks and years and years. They have power. That's why God used to them to speak life into us.

Recently, some words were said about me. By who and about what are not important. What is important is since then, every single day has been a battle. A battle to fight the negative thoughts that crept into my heart. "You are not enough, you are not good, you are not worthwhile, you are worthless, useless, unloved..." Round and round and round.

I have been fighting friends, to remember the Truth. The Words that Jesus would speak into my life. Words about love and hope and encouragement. The gentle reminders that in my weakness, He is stronger. That my worth is from Him and Him alone. It is astounding that the words of one can out weigh the words of ten who do speak these words into my life.

My husband came home and found me in tears, because last night I wasn't feeling good, had gotten sick, and didn't cook him dinner. I was crying because I didn't cook him dinner. I was crying because there are two baskets of clothes that needed to be folded. I was crying because I was spotting yesterday, and was afraid for the baby I carry. I was crying because Ellie was crying and I couldn't vacuum. I was crying because those words had slowly seeped into my heart to make me so insecure that I thought that me not doing those things was going to affect my husbands love for me.

He took me into his arms and reminded me...

He reminded me that I am unfinished and imperfect. He reminded me that nothing I could do would make him love me less. He reminded me that he knows I'm doing my best. Without words he reminded me of Grace and Love and Forgiveness and that tomorrow is a brand new day. In one wordless hug he reminded me that for him, right now, I am enough. Just like I'm enough for the Lord.

I will always be careful with my words, and will apologize and beg forgiveness when I am not. Because the words I speak have so much power in peoples lives. Regardless of if I mean them to or not.

My daughter and this new baby I carry, will grow up hearing words from me.

It is my choice to speak life into their lives, or to use those words to put them down.

I will chose to speak life. It is the example I have been given, and it is beautiful.

Ok

This is my second miscarriage. Everyone wants to know how I am.

Here's how I am. I'm ok.

Just ok.

My first miscarriage was my first pregnancy and it hurt my heart like no other. It came fast and swift and a week later it was all done and my body had healed physically. It was the emotional scars that I had to deal with that first time.

This time, it's not so much an emotional turmoil as much as it is a physical thing.

I'll spare you details that are better meant to be told to a doctor, but I am going to tell you that this time it has been painful. And it has lasted a long time. In fact, as of right now, losing this baby is still not over. I am reminded constantly that my body rejected another baby. I live with that everyday and I doing my best to accept it.

My heart was prepared to lose this little one. For weeks I'd been telling my husband that we needed to see if this baby had a heartbeat. I had many nightmares about waking up...well, not in a good state. When I started spotting, I knew right away. When we went to see the doctor, I knew that even though she was hopeful that when we went for that ultrasound that I would not see a heartbeat.

I prayed that I was wrong.

I begged to be wrong.

Fact is though, I wasn't.

And I'm ok.

I haven't been to work much because like I said, there's a fair amount of pain this time. Last Wednesday I was afraid I wouldn't make it home.

What you might not know about miscarriage is that my body is in labor. A much milder form, and the baby is (understandably) much smaller, but labor none the less. It hurts. It is not something I wanted to ever know about.

I was mad for a split second, because we just got comfortable enough to announce and tell people. Not even a week later and we were telling people there was no heartbeat. I think that because of my reaction to my first loss everyone...I don't know....expects something from me. They expect me to be sadder. More upset. Vocal. I don't feel that way this time. I feel analytically and factual. I feel tired. I take a lot of Tylenol. I've asked Blair for a lot of alone time.

I'm ok.

I still find all these beautiful things to look at every day. Things to be thankful for and that touch my heart. Every day with Ellie is still a miracle and there are some amazing people who are here for me and who love me. I have already started receiving cards from people reminding me of the love that Christ has for us and how we are not alone.

I don't feel alone.

I just feel...well, at the moment, I don't feel much. Maybe I will. Maybe this will hit me in November when I realize that I'm not preparing to give birth to a full term baby. Maybe I'll get sad when I look into Blair's eyes and realize how sad I am that we don't have a little boy with his eyes and dimples. Maybe it will hit me like a ton of bricks and my world will fall apart.

That's not where I am right now though. Right now, this night, (when I should be sleeping because Ellie is....) I'm just ok.

So thank you. Thank you for your love support well wished condolences all of it, thank you.

But God knew what His plans for this baby were, and He prepared my heart. So while I am giving my body time to heal, for the most part, I'm ok.

Really.

I'm ok.

Remember

I sat down the intention of writing a super awesome blog post. I have all these ideas about what to write and why I want to write. In the end though...I'm not really sure what I want to say.

I feel like a lot of it as already been said. I offer no new insights. No new convictions to spur you on to becoming a better human. What does Ecclesiastes say? There is nothing new under the sun? I get that now.

There are beautiful struggles that we've been through. Terrible sleepless nights, there have been tears, and emergency room trips. There has been laughter and joy and these beautiful moments where we look at one another and at our daughter and it's all too much. In the past month there have been fights and arguments and disappointments. There has simply been Life.

Each day, each minute, each second, we are surviving. We are learning new things, about ourselves, and about our baby. We have accepted adventures and trials with what grace we could muster.

Some people describe their lives as beautiful, and I wonder, how? How can a pile of dishes and laundry that NEVER EVER ends be beautiful? I don't think my life is beautiful all the time. I think it's a mess. I think I am a mess. After all, I am mother now. I'm not sure that my shirts are ever truly clean, and if they are, don't worry they won't be for long.

Some people describe these wonderful marriages, and I wonder how? We fight. I get annoyed with him and sometimes, I just want him to go away. Or to let me go away. Sometimes I go to bed and wait for him to come to bed and when he does he wakes me up and then I want to punch him in the face. And he's a man, he is smelly. All the time. Then he makes me dinner, and does the laundry, or lets me take a nap and I remember how much I love him.

If I could throw my life into one word, that's what it would be. Remember. I'm in a state of remembrance. I remember how it felt to first be married (we are coming up on two years now...and I love that), I remember how he held me when he saw me after I lost our first baby, I remember kissing him after we had our little girl, smiling and saying "We did it babe, she's so beautiful." I remember what it was like to sleep through the night and what it was like to spend an ENTIRE day BY MYSELF. I remember how selfish I used to be. I remember.

I remember that in all things there is purpose and that for everything there is a season. I remember that God promises not to leave me or forsake me, that He promises to walk with me. I remember His promises. I remember how He wept for His friend, and how He weeps when I do, even if I am alone in the shower and all I want to go to bed.

My life is not always beautiful, but I remember when it is. I mark it down. Talk about it. So that my friends can look at me and say "Yes, that happened and it was beautiful."

Sneaky Soul Killer

It's 9 and I'm pretty tired but not tired enough to shut down my brain and crawl into bed. I look around at out little room at the pile of dirty laundry, the unfolded clean clothes, and the various baby toys strewn about. There are two laundry baskets just sitting in our room and I'm not even sure why. As I look I think "How do other moms do it?"

And therein lies where my heart truly is.

Comparison. The kind that eats into your soul just a little at a time. It's so sneaky. So small. You don't even realize it's happening, until you realize that it's happening. And I realized it's happening.

I compare myself a lot to the idea of what I call the Put Together Momma.

Why can't I be as active as other moms? Why don't I go see people more, like other moms? Why isn't my ONE ROOM ALWAYS immaculate? I mean, other moms have whole HOUSES and they keep up with it. Why don't I have delicious dinners waiting for my husband to come home to? Why does 20 hours of working (no matter how much I love my job, and I do love it) feel like 80 by the end of the week? Other moms work 40 and still manage to have time with their little ones...

Other moms. Other people. Why this, why that...why do I even bother I want to ask.

This simple thing crushes your soul. I find myself asking if I'm good enough. I find myself begging to be better.

It takes a moment to sink in, that I am doing the best that I can with what I have right now. That the truth of my life is that by the time I get home from an 8 hour shift, I. Am. Tired. And I would rather take a hot shower than fold clothes. I would rather hold my snuggley baby at night rather than put her down and go to sleep myself.

I remind myself that we all have our struggles. While I appreciate those moms who seem to have to all together, I know they have their own moments of doubt. I think each mother does.

I will not compare myself to you, Put Together Momma. I will not. I will love you, like Christ loves me, because that's all I can do. And I am learning, slowly, to love myself the way Christ loves me. After all, I need Grace sometimes too.