Personal

Every year around this time, I choose one word that I am going to focus on for the upcoming new year. Last year my word was content, as in, I wanted to become content with the present rather than obsessing with plans for the future or dwelling too much on the past. Full disclosure, that was a really hard one. 2015 was rough. But I remembered my word and carried it around like I needed it.

2016 starts in just a few days (what?!?). I chose my word this morning, after careful thought and prayer. My word will be personal. As in, I am going to try my best to focus on how God loves me personally, rather than obsess and compare with how he is blessing my friends.

Here's some raw honesty. Most women that struggle with infertility, whether they admit it or not, feel the painful sting when loved ones seem to get pregnant easily (and sustain that pregnancy until they birth a healthy baby). Ben and I have struggled with infertility not once, but three times. Years and years. It is our number one struggle in our marriage, hands down. We've lost five pregnancies. I hate talking about it, not because I am embarrassed but because people say hurtful things, and I don't have the thickest skin. But here's my weakness. When it seems so easy for others, and so very hard for us, I doubt God's love for me personally. It's awful, I know. But it's true. I question why my pregnancies fail. I question why hers don't, and I think maybe he loves her more. It's a bitter pill, friends. I just don't want to hurt anymore.

So my experiment for January is to focus on looking for God's love. For me. Not for you. Some days will be harder than others. I have about twenty five friends that are pregnant right now. I need to realize that they are no more special to God than I am. I am deleting my Facebook app, just for January, because I have to stop the comparison madness. I get on that stupid website and am reminded of my failures. I feel less than. Less of a woman. It's dumb and I want to stop the toxic comparing of wombs.

I covet your prayers. I long to know God's love for me. I know it, in my heart and my brain, but I don't always feel it, you know?

Thanks for letting me be so raw. This is tough territory, but I am ready to tackle it. I want to change.

Happy New Year, loves.

10

This Thursday marks ten years since the boy from Chemistry class married me and changed my name. Ten years ago, I was an idealistic little twenty year old that thought that marriage would be easy, my happily ever after. The boy and I quickly learned that marriage would be one of the hardest journeys ever.

Ben is quiet, and gentle, and to be honest, I've only heard him yell maybe three times in the thirteen years we've been a couple. I grew up in a tumultuous, angry household, and I think maybe my spirit knew I should pick a man that was different. Peaceful. Safe.

He loves me fiercely. He protects and provides and he's a great daddy to our two boys.We are so different, opposites in many ways, but the one thing we agree on more than anything is protecting our family from the forces that would love to tear it apart.

This year has been the most challenging for the two of us. We're really open about that, not because we're proud of it but because we believe that honesty and openness can heal a lot. We've been through hell and dare I say we've come out of it better.

I love this man I grew up with. I had no idea, when I went on a group date with him on that cold January night thirteen years ago, that he would end up as my husband. Usually you don't end up with the person you start dating at seventeen.

I know this post isn't mushy, there aren't a lot of frills, but this is our story. Through many struggles, through five miscarriages and years of infertility and doctors and family heartache and the loss of my dad and six tattoos, through financial uncertainty and broken hearts and severed ties, through thirteen Christmases and ten years of filing our taxes together, through five moves and one mortgage, we've made it through. I love this man fiercely. I'm not sure of a whole lot, but I am really, really sure of us.

Hope

The little ornament above is one my son brought home from Sunday school last week. Our church is big on Christmas, as any good church should be.
This little paper decoration hit a nerve.

I've given up the notion of hope this year.
Hope means vulnerability. Disappointment. Pain.
Hope is for suckers.
Right?

But, God tells us to hope. This little ornament reminds me that God's promises are supposed to fill us with hope. Dare I venture down this road again? Dare I risk being hurt again to open my heart to what God has for me? It's so scary. But God promises not to leave me on this road alone.
He doesn't promise easy.
He doesn't promise pain free.
He doesn't promise material wealth or good looks or all the babies my mama heart desires.
But he promises hope.
It's his gift to this broken soul of mine.

Merry Christmas, dear ones. May your December be filled with hope.

Joy

We were fortunate enough to get to travel up to Georgia, South Carolina, and North Carolina last week to experience an actual fall, complete with multi-colored leaves, cooler temperatures, and unique fall-themed activities. We stayed with Ben's grandmother, who was kind enough to open up her home to us for four days. She's really fun and such a trooper to host our wild little bunch!

I'll confess something. The main reason I wanted to go up North was to find God. I haven't been sure of much lately, but I always feel closer to God when I'm in his beautiful creation. Not that Florida isn't beautiful in it's own way, but after living here thirty years, I'm used to it.
So I wanted the mountains, I wanted the beauty. I wanted to be reminded that God makes beautiful things.

When I was a little girl, I'd go stay with my Gran in Franklin, North Carolina, just a few miles away from where we just were. When things were bad at home, Gran was my safe harbor. I spent so many summers up there with her, experiencing all of this beauty and realizing that there must be a God, because places this beautiful couldn't be an accident.

My heart got to heal a little on this trip. I saw fall, I lived and breathed fall, and I was reminded of God's magnitude. Sometimes it's healing just to stand on a giant mountain and feel small. What a perspective changer. I was able to experience joy, something I have been praying for fervently ever since we stopped trying to grow our family. I have been so incredibly sad. But this trip made me feel excited about something. It made me realize that we can do this again. And two kids is easier to travel with than a whole van full. We can go places, we can experience new things, the four of us. And that's something to be excited about in it's own way. I've been in a mourning period for a while now, mourning my hopes and dreams that must change. But being back in my favorite place reminded me that just like God's word promises, joy indeed comes with the morning. I'm going to keep praying for this joy.

I still don't exactly know what the future holds for us. I don't know if we'll keep homeschooling next year or if I should go back to work or what God wants from me. But I pray I'll experience his joy on the road to figuring it all out.

A new season

My heart is healing. Some days are still hard, but all in all, I'm doing better.

I feel like we're entering into a new season of life. Away from the baby stage, and into full fledged childhood. Logan is 5 1/2, and Levi will be 2 (!!!!) in just a few short weeks.  He's been asking to use the potty, and while this is great, it makes me a little sad. Once the baby stuff is gone, it's gone.

We've decided that enough is enough with this trying for another baby madness.
At a certain point I realized that my spiritual health, my view of a loving God, my outlook at the world, was all being severely tarnished each time I miscarried. It took away my joy, my hope. It feels really bizarre not to hope anymore. And yet, it feels right. I still pray, because I don't know how not to pray. I still love Jesus, as confused as I am. I am thankful for passages of scripture that highlight others struggling with their creator. Job is a personal favorite right now.

I know I am like a lot of other Christians, struggling to make sense of why God allows what he allows. I was so terrified to admit my doubts to other Christians for so long, afraid they'd label me a heathen or tell me to stop talking. Instead, when I've shared my concerns and questions, what I've gotten is a "me too" 99% of the time.

So in this new season, this season of trying to find God and trying to feel joy and trying to make sense of my pain, I'm focusing on just a handful of things.

My kids. My miracles. These two little people that drive me to exhaustion every single day. I love them more than life. They remind me that good still exists. That God is real. Because He made them. And they came from me. Which, according to doctors, is a really big deal in my case.

My best friend. My husband. Ten years this December. He's been playing the role of listener for the most part, not offering generic advice but listening as I voice my confusion, my uncertainty. He's been a rock to me during this tough season.

My church. A whole bunch of people that love God but that aren't afraid to admit that they have their own doubts. Their own hurts. Their own set of hard questions. They sent me these flowers the week of the last miscarriage. They've been praying for us for years, ever since this journey started long ago. They've given me hugs and notes and shoulders to cry on.

So my prayer is different now. I no longer pray to grow our family. I pray instead for a new dream. A new passion. I have no idea what that will be. I have no expectations. But as we enter into this new, beautiful fall season, I'm deciding that it's time for me to embrace it. Whatever it may be.

Maybe that's okay

It's been a weird week.
Sunday we learned that another pregnancy wasn't going to make it. Two days later, Ben hopped on a plane for Wisconsin. He never travels for work, yet this week, he's been gone. He comes home tomorrow.
We've spent this grieving period away from one another.
I don't know how I feel about it.
The kids have been a huge distraction, in the best way, because they have no idea what's going on and they simply don't let me sit alone for more than a few minutes at a time. We've made multiple Target runs and gone for walks and of course kept up with Logan's homeschooling.
But the distractions aren't 100% effective.
I'm still sad.
Still wondering what we do from here on out.
Still grieving the dream of growing this family.
Wondering, picturing what this means for us.
I've been reading about Job. I like him. I like how he isn't afraid to blame God, and I like how the bible says that even in his blaming God, he didn't sin.
I'm blaming God right now.
He could have saved this pregnancy, as well as the others.
He didn't and I don't know why.
But maybe I'm not supposed to know why.
Maybe I'll never know why.
And maybe that's okay.

Arrows

 
Psalm 127:3-5: Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one's youth. Happy is the man who has a quiver of them.

I've clung to the scripture above for quite some time. Probably since we started trying for our first child, 8 years ago. I always prayed for a quiver full of my own little arrows. I dreamed of a full house, of a handful of kiddos that could be siblings and best friends. I thought, thanks to the aforementioned verse, that the more kids I had, the more blessed I would be.

 Most of our quiver won't be held by us until we get to Heaven.

With this last loss, something changed in me. I realize now that our family is complete. Two is our quiver. Two is enough. Two is a hell of a lot more than some people get. It stings, it's definitely the loss of a dream. I mourn what could have been, and to be honest, yes, I am angry at God right now. Probably why I am okay with typing things like "hell of a lot" without obsessing over what my church friends will think. Because my heart hurts like hell. Miscarriage will wreck your marriage if you let it. We aren't going to let it. 

So we're done. We're grateful for our two. We're going to focus on our unit of four and not believe the lie that our family would be better, would have more love if only we could grow it. Because we can't grow it. God said no. And I am going to be okay with that. We really don't have another choice.
 

Raw

I know it was nothing I did wrong.
I know I ate exactly the right things, was proactive to the point of obsessiveness.
I did everything in my power to sustain this pregnancy.

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.

I woke up this morning with horrible pain. A trip to the bathroom confirmed my fears. We were losing pregnancy number five.

I am broken, I am confused, I am wondering why some women that don't even like kids get to have a handful.
I am wondering why my body keeps doing this, when on paper, I am healthy.
I am wondering why women who complain about how much pregnancy sucks get to have healthy, happy babies when those of us that fight with every ounce of our bodies, those of us that take the progesterone and practically live at the doctor's office and don't go anywhere near caffeine or lunch meat or nitrates still lose our babies. Again and again and again.

I have no answers.
No scripture to quote this morning.
Nothing.

My heart hurts.

I like thirty

I've been thirty for six months now.
I'm really liking it and that surprises me.
I was kind of afraid that this age would instantly turn my hair gray, kill my remaining eggs and give me wrinkles. I am happy to report that my worries were a bit dramatic. I still look the same.

But I'm different. I'm different and I am so much happier. For the first time in my life, I am comfortable in my own skin. I'm okay with me. That might sound so cheesy, but I've battled anxiety and body dismorphia off and on my whole life, and this is big.

I'm finally okay with who I am in Christ, who I am as a woman. At thirty, I realize, finally, that I don't have to be liked by every single person. I don't have to be the thinnest, or the funniest, or any of that.

It was so exhausting trying to be the girl that was all those things.

The truth is, sometimes I eat things that would make my Whole30 friends cringe. And I am not a bad person for it. 
The truth is, sometimes I don't smile all day long. Sometimes the thought of having to smile one more time is crazy overwhelming.
The truth is, I have never been perfect and as I age, my body is subtly changing. I have varicose veins from birthing big babies. I have two stretch marks on my belly. I used to be afraid to wear shorts. In Florida.
Not anymore.
I'm finally happy. Comfortable. I'm realizing that THIS body, flawed as it may be, is mine for life. So I can be good to it.
Thirty to me means I can finally feel confident. My twenties were a giant roller coaster of fear and playing it safe. Thirty means I am finally realizing that God has BIG, good plans for me and I can get excited about them.

I finally feel free. 

Did we fail?

We remodeled our first home. Put in hours upon hours of work, used up our tax return and our weekends and a chunk of our life. We got things looking great, and we put our house up for sale. It was scary. I don't like the idea of strangers in my home, seeing where my family sleeps and eats and all of that. But I told myself countless times that it was worth it because Ben and I have been so homesick for Orlando, and this was our ticket to move back.

We'd sell our house, put some money in our savings, even get to take a cruise for our upcoming tenth anniversary with our earnings.

Contract number one fell through.

Contract number two fell through.

And this past Friday, contract number three fell through.

We're realizing that there's a reason we're here, in this sleepy little town with not much to do. There's a reason we live an hour away from so many of our favorite things and favorite people. I don't understand any of it.

On Thursday, as inspections were underway, I prayed this: Lord, you know our hearts and where they are. You know we don't want to be so far away from our hometown. We're lonely out here. Even so, we want what you want. If this isn't what you have for us, let it slip out of our hands.

It slipped out of our hands, guys.

Last night after a busy Sunday of church and errands, I sat in the garage with Ben. I was just...sad. Did we fail? Did he think that we had failed? Could we have done more?

No. We're out here for a reason. I don't know what it is. Neither does he. But we don't have to know. This year my word has been content. I vowed to be content with what the Lord had planned for us, even if it wasn't what I necessarily wanted. It looks as though he's giving me my chance, yet again, to be joyful right where I am at.

So no. We didn't fail. Not at all.

For real

It's the end of an era. I'm not using Facebook anymore. Technically, I still have it, because I didn't delete it (there are SO many videos and pictures of the boys on there, and I'm not quite sure how to save them all). But I deleted the app on my phone and made it difficult to get on from my home computer.

I've had an account since 2007. I was a college senior and life was so incredibly different. Facebook was an amazing new world to reconnect with people from different parts of my life. I didn't realize that for someone like me, a girl that is constantly battling perfectionism and feelings of unworthiness, this particular website would cause me to go down a slippery slope.

The truth is, social media has made me unhappy. Ben and I have had the hardest year yet in our ten year marriage. Really, really hard. Things we never thought we'd struggle with personally, we've ended up facing (full disclosure, he is okay with me writing this. Promise). When we'd be in the middle of a struggle, I'd find myself on social media, viewing everyone's date nights and fancy getaways and wondering what we were doing wrong. Why we didn't feel the way the people on the computer felt. It wasn't fair for me to compare real, in the thick of it us with a filtered, highly edited them. Every new pregnancy announcement just made me angrier with him. He didn't understand, because he's always been very uninterested in this whole phenomena of over-sharing every little detail with the world wide web. All these years, he's been on to something.

So this Friday, I held my finger down on that little app and deleted it. It was a little scary. What if my friends don't talk to me in any other way? But I don't really need 350 friends. I need to save my marriage.

I'm not knocking all forms of social sharing. I mean, I am typing this on a blog. I'm not knocking Facebook, even. I'm just tired, bone tired of comparing. It's time for real. I'm really excited for real.

I am not you

I'm going to confess something that a nice Christian girl should perhaps keep to herself: I am struggling with sin. My sin of choice? Jealousy. Big, green, ugly jealousy.  I'm not jealous of your fancy SUV's or your four bedroom houses. I'm not jealous of your Starbucks runs or your clothing budget or any of that.
I'm jealous of your big families.
I want one so much it hurts.
But God's been using my pain to teach me something amazing. I am not you. I am not meant to be you, I never was. It's really hard for me to have babies and we may never have more and it doesn't make me any less valuable, any less of a mother just because I can't have six kids. A mother is a mother, no matter how many kids she has given birth to.
What makes me a mother is the love I have for my sons. The fact that I would give my life for theirs in a second, without hesitation. What makes me a mother is a million little things, a million choices I must make each day to put these boys before myself.
But the jealousy thing. Here's my problem. As a follower of Christ, I believe with all my heart that God chooses family size, and God is in control, ultimately. Pretty much everyone I hang out with has a big family, or is working on having one. I can't compete. I want a quiver full just like you do. But sometimes God's answer to my prayers is different from his answer to yours.
I'm not going to tie this post up with some Christian cliche, because I'm not sure they help. I'll just say this. I'm grateful that even when I don't know, even when I have zero control over the future here, God is still good. I am not you. And I guess it's okay.

I jumped on the bandwagon, but it's a really cool one

I have to confess something: For years, when my friends would talk about how much they loved their essential oils and their organic food and their various natural remedies, I would roll my eyes. Not really, that's rude, but I would kind of tune them out. I seriously thought the whole thing was silly and a waste of money.

But then I started to have an awful lot of health problems, some pretty serious. And I went to so many doctors, paid thousands and thousands of dollars out of pocket and still didn't get better. My body was breaking down, and it started to get my attention.

Through a series of events, I started seeing a wonderful Chiropractor who helped deliver my second baby. She moonlights as a doula and she is perhaps the best. I remember her showing up to the hospital with a basket of Young Living essential oils, all for me to use to help me through a complicated labor. Even nearly two years later, when I smell Frankincense, I think of the birth of my Levi.

My health troubles didn't disappear after I had him though. My teeth got really bad. I got gout. I dropped down to 92 pounds. I couldn't keep food in.I had horrible migraines. Something was going on.

I turned to essential oils because my doctors were out of answers. They wanted to put me on an antidepressant and be done with it. That wasn't something I was ready for.

Young Living has helped me in so many ways. I'm healthier, my teeth are healing (who knew they could do that?!?) I have more energy, and I've gained a few pounds ( a good thing in my case). I'm passionate about these oils because they've helped give me a new perspective.

I never, EVER want to pressure anyone, but if you'd like to start learning and growing I'd love to have you on our team. I'm looking into starting a Youtube channel on this with my husband, but we're not the most tech savvy people so we'll wait and see. 

Happy oiling!

Update: A link to my first youtube video! I have no idea how any of this technical stuff works :)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zvntw_jxjCs

On Disappointment

We had buyers. We met them, they were lovely, they had cool tattoos. The inspection went well, everything passed. We got the call on the tenth day. They were backing out.

Our second offer to back out.

I didn't sweep behind the fridge before the inspection. I knew it as soon as I saw the muck that was back there. The inspector had pulled out the fridge to check the outlet behind it, and there it all was. As clean as I thought I was, as many baseboards and windows and floors as I had scrubbed....I felt like a failure. They saw the gunk behind the fridge and mentioned it specifically.

I tried to make it perfect, and I failed.

I spent the day wallowing a little. Cleaning more (it calms me?), stuffing my face with ice cream, feeling sick yet again. Have I mentioned that selling a house that you actually live in sucks big time? It sucks big time.

I think the scary thing is not feeling secure. Logan is signed up for classes in August. An hour away from here, because we had faith that we'd be moved into our new home by then. And now I'm just not sure where we'll be. Probably here still.

Disappointment is hard. Whether it's a buyer backing out, another negative pregnancy test, or a painful comment from a family member. It's all hard to digest. Sometimes literally, as is evident by my inability to keep food down these days.

But I guess I still have hope, as silly as it may seem. Today I thanked God for our buyers that backed out, because this was obviously not a deal that was supposed to happen. I don't know why, I don't need to know why. But I can be grateful that something new, something better will come our way when the time is right. In the mean time, we get to live in our nicely remodeled home, with very little clutter because most of what we own is in storage. It's all okay. As cliche as it may sound, I'm grateful for setbacks like the ones we've been experiencing. They make the victories that much sweeter.

Tangents

I think in tangents these days, so it's probably only fitting that I write in tangents. 
Life is an absolute whirlwind right now, and I'm pretty sure the only reason I blog is to have an excuse to sit down for five minutes with a cup of tea and look like I'm doing something very official and important to my kids. 

We got an offer on the house the first week it was up. A great offer. It fell through. We got a second offer on the house, not as great, but so far it hasn't fallen through. We had the inspection yesterday, so as long as that goes well we're moving next month. 

I never, EVER want to sell a house again. Unless it's a flip. Having strangers in my home, where my babies live, while we're NOT THERE,  is incredibly terrifying. There is nothing normal about it. My stomach has been a wreck and I haven't been able to keep food down because I don't like strangers apparently. 

House showings have also turned me into an annoying, OCD neat freak, because that's what the people want. They don't want to see dirty dishes or cloudy windows or clutter. As a result I clean any time I am not sitting down. And it's never enough, because there are kids here and kids are messy and that's just real life.

I'm a minimalist, I talk about how great it is to not have a lot of stuff, but the stress of putting our home up for sale has sent me straight to Kohl's. Apparently I self medicate with pretty things. It's an expensive problem. 

There's more. There's always more. I am dreaming of the day, someday soon, when we will be in our new house, no for sale sign in the yard, and we'll be just a little bit bored. I hope that day comes soon.

A thousand changes

We've met with our listing agent. Signed contracts. A photographer comes out this weekend, and then just like that, our home will be for sale. We've been working toward this day for years. We've painted. Painted again. Renovated the kitchen. Two bathrooms. Landscaped. Landscaped again because Florida's sun is cruel. Now it's time.
As I signed the papers last night, my heart started to race. "OMG, we're selling our HOME! What are we doing? What if we don't find a home to buy in time? Where will we live? What are we DOING?!?!?"...were just some of the repetitive thoughts in my head.
We're excited to move back to our home town. To be closer to our church and our doctors and L's school and Ben's work and our people. To be able to go to Target without having to drive an hour round trip.
But new is scary, even if it's good. I look at my two littles and I fully realize that every decision I make will affect them, in one way or another. This is big stuff.
As I was panicking last night, I felt God whisper to me. "I will take care of you. Do you believe that? Because you should. It's as simple as that." And that reminder, along with binge eating some peanut butter, calmed me down.
We're going to be okay. This is going to be good. There are a thousand changes going on right now, in our family, in our finances, in our roles, but He's got us and it's going to be good.

We don't do tv anymore

Yesterday the kids and I went to Wal Mart (which may as well be an Olympic sport these days, let me tell you). Apparently at Wal Mart they have people trying to sell you things in addition to all of the things you can buy on the shelves. We were walking near the electronics when a young man asked me what kind of television provider we use. I smiled and said "Oh, we don't do tv anymore." I may as well have told him we live on the moon or sleep standing up. He couldn't hide his shock. "But...what do you do for FUN?" came out of his mouth almost immediately. I told him I've recently gotten into running again. He looked at me skeptically and said "Well, you look happy."

He's right. For the first time ever, I think I'm truly, genuinely happy. Letting go of what I thought I needed, enjoying life for what it is, connecting with people I love, it's changed me. I don't have crippling anxiety anymore. I feel healthier and less rushed and more intentional about my life. I don't obsess over my size or my looks or over how many people like me. I'm finally finding my worth in the Lord, not in anyone or anything else.

It's amazing. I think for the first time in my life, I am okay with me.

The joy of now

I've spent a great deal of my life waiting. Longing.
Waiting to grow up and go to college and move out and be an adult.
Waiting to get married.
Waiting, oh the agonizing waiting, to be a mother.
Waiting to be a mother again.
The years I've spent waiting.

I'm learning something at thirty.
Life doesn't just have to be about waiting for the next grand adventure.
Sometimes the best moments are now.

I spent the three years we tried for another baby so sad. My heart longed to give my boy a sibling.
When I look back on it now, yes, it was sad, but there was also a lot of joy. A lot of fun and laughter and life being lived. I wish I could go back and tell myself that it would all turn out okay. That I didn't have to fear the future, that I could just LIVE and it would be enough.

It's not quite time for baby number three. I know it in my heart.
I'm determined to do things differently.
I can enjoy the now.
The now with my beautiful boys, growing so fast.
The now of being thirty, as I start to notice a few gray hairs and realize that I won't have this metabolism forever, so I may as well enjoy a little ice cream. The now of being old enough to know how life works, yet young enough to change things.

I don't want to spend the rest of my days waiting.
Now is so good.
Plans are great, plans are exciting, but now is real.

And then you were five

My sweet boy, how are you five? The fact that I have been taking care of you for this long boggles my mind. And yet, at the same time, I don't really remember life before you. I don't really want to.

 We had a simple celebration this year. Small. Close knit. Just some of Daddy's family, and your two little buddies from church, Kingston and Ella. Your parties used to be grandiose. Chaotic. Loud. And you cried each time. This year we did things differently, and you didn't cry. Perhaps, like your mom, you just don't do crowds very well.

You are many things, sweet Logan. You are wise beyond your years, yet sensitive and so innocent still. You love your brother and you love your family. You always smell a little bit like sweat. You like science, and super heroes, and chocolate milk. You like Katy Perry and dancing like crazy and you crave routine.

You've been sick this week. The horrible stomach virus has visited us again. It's been awful. But you've let me hold you, for the first time in maybe a year. You're a big kid now, and I cherish the gift of getting to hold you one more time.

I experienced so much anxiety when you were born. For the first time in my life I experienced the kind of love that made me fearful of loss. I prayed for you for years and years before you came into existence. And then you were here and I became terrified of messing this up somehow.

You've taught me so much about life and love and what it means to be a mom. The way you love your brother is a gift to me and to your dad. You bring us laughter, and chaos, and so many smiles.

Five is going to be a big year for you, kid.
I love you.
Mom.  

Why God gives us girlfriends

I live in a house full of boys (just in case the name on the top of the page didn't give that away). I love my people. I love that I get to be a wife to a good man and a mom to the two cutest little people I've ever seen. These people are fun. They like to do fun boy things like see who can fart the loudest, see who can have the smelliest feet, and see who can make me jump the highest by scaring me with lizards (I hate lizards).

I love these people and have fun with these people and consider these people my mission field.
But I'm still a girl (Woman? Can I say woman at 30? The word still feels weird to me). And sometimes I want to talk about my FEELINGS (I'm sorry to be a stereotype. Really). These people don't really like talking about feelings. I get that. I grew up with brothers. But try as I might, I can't make my feelings go away.

I've been wanting another baby. Like NOW. Or YESTERDAY. I know it's not the right time. Ben and I have already established that if we are to be responsible adults, we absolutely must wait before adding another tiny person to the planet. On paper, I totally get that. My ovaries don't really care what's on paper. Not one iota.

Yesterday, I was really feeling it. I keep praying I won't want another. And won't you know, the more I pray, the stronger the pull on my heart gets. It's very annoying, actually. The cool thing about yesterday, is even though I was bummed, in a big old funk, my girlfriends just kind of knew it and started texting me. Emily, all the way from LA, was going on about how wanting a third baby doesn't make me some kind of freak show, that I'm normal, that I am female and it's totally okay. Gosh I wanted to hug her through my outdated Iphone. She was such a blessing to me when I was expecting to wallow and she was just great at lifting my spirits.

Then my other good friend, Andrea, did the same thing. Emily and Andrea don't even know each other, but it was almost like they planned it. Andrea went on to encourage me and tell me that this is not the end of the story, that it's totally okay to be in a funk some days and I am indeed normal.

I am so thankful God gave me girlfriends to do life with. There are so many, and each of them seems to be there for me at exactly the right time. I don't even ask, they just know. And I know it's a God thing. The family I came from is broken, and extremely tangled, and there has been more than a little heartache. But God has placed some key women in my life who have become my sisters. Sisters I can share things with and not worry about being judged. Sisters I can just be FEMALE with. Sisters who remind me that even though I am in a house full of boys, it's okay to paint my nails and watch Parenthood and just be a girl sometimes.

I am super grateful God gave me some of the best ladies around.

Simplifying

Ever since life changed forever back in October, I've been feeling the urge to simplify. To purge my possessions and keep only what is necessary or beautiful to my family.

Back when everything changed, I knew I couldn't make my sadness go away or turn back time and heal my dad, but the one thing I could do is make my home a place of peace. I started reading blogs on minimalism. Blogs that claim that letting go of things that require upkeep and space will help us feel more in control. I decided to give it a try.

Since then, I've made countless trips to Goodwill. I've sold some bigger items. And there is a lot more space. Without mindless shopping trips, there is more money for better food. For family experiences. For memories to be made.

I don't miss the stuff. Not at all.

It's easier to get dressed, because I have five shirts to choose from, not twenty five.
And five is still a lot.

We got rid of cable. Which is another form of simplifying. Less noise, no more advertisements telling my kids they need the latest toy. Now they are realizing they have everything they could ever really want already.

I simplified parties. I used to use my kid's birthdays as a way to invite everyone I know over. It was really overwhelming (and costly). Since October, I can't do crowds. Now, birthday parties consist of two friends from church, maybe a grandparent. You might not even call them parties. But my kids are happier and life seems easier this way.

Since October, I've learned that I don't want to waste time trying to impress people or acquire fancier things. I can't please everyone anyway, and life is too short to try. Money is nice, but it's not the end goal. I am happy, I have everything I need, I needn't wish for more.

March Update

There was a time when I blogged almost every day and loved it so much.
Then I had another kid.
And suddenly my typing time all but vanished.
I love writing.
I love it like some of you like running (I have TRIED to like running. I hate it. I really hate it).
But even though my time may be limited and I can guarantee there is something more productive I should be doing, I'm getting back into this old hobby. Not because I think anyone will read this.
Only because I think way too much and writing is so much cheaper than paying someone to be my therapist.
 So, without further a due, here's a little update on my foursome:

-I turned thirty. I turned thirty and the world kept spinning and I only had one major freakout about where my life is going, why I haven't discovered world peace yet, whether or not my eggs are bad, what I should do with the rest of my life, and whether I should just give up healthy eating and binge on hot fudge because it's all downhill from here. Ben threw me a party. Which was way better than a gift. He invited some of my girlfriends from church and helped clean the house and even steamed the carpets. We partied like it was 1985 and I will remember that night forever.

-I am working on weaning my baby. Yes, I realize he's 16 months old. My goal was always 18 months, but people (relatives) started hounding me to wean him. It really bothers some people when you nurse passed 12 months. We are gradually weaning. Dropping one feeding and replacing it with cow's milk. It'll take a few weeks. I know it's time, but I want it on record that I am NOT weaning because some people keep telling me to. Truth be told it would be nice to not have to watch my caffeine intake or go on a date with my husband (I hear that can be fun).  

-Speaking of opinions, I keep hearing that 30 is the year I stop caring what other people think about my life choices. Oh I hope so. I'm reading The Best Yes by Lysa Terkeurst and it's opening my eyes to the fact that it's okay to say no, it's okay to not seek out everyone's approval, and that no matter how hard I try, not everyone will always like me (and that's a good thing). I wish I had known about fabulous Lysa back in college. Would have saved me so much money on counseling.

-I've been working on preschool with Logan. Since we are homeschooling, I chose not to send him to VPK, but we've been working at home and it's been good. Please don't roll your eyes when I tell you he's brilliant. I know every mom thinks their kids are, but he really is! His vocabulary is that of a forty year old's. He loves to spell, he loves science, and he loves to quote bible verses (In a cute way. Not in an annoying way, I promise ).

-Our house is nearly ready to sell. We have one bathroom left to remodel, and Ben is working hard on it. The kitchen is done, and I have fallen in love with it. If I didn't miss Orlando so much I'd start begging to stay put.

There's more, so much more, but my kid's breakfast isn't going to make itself.
Happy Friday.

Okay

I still miss him.
Most days I push the sad thoughts out of my mind. Sometimes, out of nowhere, I'll hear a song, and it triggers the tears. The Beatles, especially. I can't listen to them anymore.
It's been four months.
I haven't healed yet.
Unless denial counts as healed.
He's up there though. I know that.
He's holding the babies I only ever got to hold in my belly.
He's okay up there.
I know that much.
But I still hurt for all that wasn't.
The reconciliation that will have to wait until Heaven.
And I give thanks for those that continue to hold me. Listen to me. Tell me it's okay to cry, to cuss, to binge on simple carbohydrates.
He wasn't perfect.
Most of my life I just wished he'd come visit me, watch me grow up.
But I get it now.
He just did the best he could.
He was broken.
So beautifully broken.
But he's not anymore.
He's up there.
And he's okay. 

A month of Dave Ramsey

This is a post about money. If money talk makes you uncomfortable, maybe go read something else. I am learning that there's a freedom that comes from raw honesty. That sometimes when you pour your heart out, someone else has the courage to say me too.
Christmas sent us over the edge, financially speaking. Due to hospital bills and an unexpected, dental insurance denied root canal, we were struggling to pay the bills. Add in presents for our gigantic, blended family (we have 15 nieces and nephews, I am now one of 9 kids, Ben one of 6, not including the spouses) and we were washed to sea.
January came, and it forced us to take a good hard look at things. What were we spending? How could we do better? Was there any hope? 
The answer to that last question turned out to be a big resounding YES.
One week I was in the nursery at church with my lovely friend Karena. I was pouring out my heart, for some odd reason. She mentioned that she and her husband Brian (Logan's fabulous teacher, as it turns out) went through Dave Ramsey's financial peace program at the beginning of their marriage, and it has helped them so much. They invited us over for lunch. A life changing lunch, actually.
They had us write down everything. Ben's salary. Our bills. Money in. Money out. It was humbling. And also encouraging. We left realizing that there IS hope.
We cut cable. We sold some of our clutter and made $150. We cut our grocery bill by a third.
And we're okay.
We're well fed. I gave up chocolate, mostly because I was spending so much money on this habit. And then I gave up all refined sugar. Our budget benefited immediately, and my health improved significantly. My tooth pain vanished. My skin started to glow. My energy skyrocketed. And because I wasn't spending money on junk, I started buying more real food. Cooking from scratch. And it's kind of fun. Kind of.
I'm not sure what our next step will be. Every baby step we've taken has had a ripple effect. It's almost a game now, to see how little we can spend and how much we can save.
I think my favorite thing about our experiment has been how it's benefited our marriage. Ben is not a talker, never has been. But during this month of change we've had some raw talks about money, our family, our future. And there have been some miracles.
It's true what people say. When you're at the bottom there really isn't anywhere to go but up. We're excited to hope again.

Content

Whew. We made it through Christmas. Through mounds of wrapping paper and too many receipts and unspeakable joy and extended family awkwardness and epiphanies and resolutions and a New Year's party and 1,000 other things. It was a good holiday season. It was a tough holiday season.

On December 10th we celebrated 9 years of marriage. 9. Yes, it feels like it's been that long. To be honest, life before marriage seems so blurry. We were just kids, almost 21 when we took that leap. But here we are, still standing.

We celebrated Christmas multiple times. We come from big families (a big, BLENDED family in my case. How many siblings do I have now? I've lost count. Seriously). There was tension, because this is the first Christmas without a certain loved one and everyone is grieving differently. Yes, I excused myself from the crowd of relatives to go cry in my mom's bedroom. More than once. And it was okay. There were spats and words said and tears and you know, I guess it's all so normal. We are not special. Siblings squabble and disagree and it's okay. The world still spins. And maybe I am baring my soul a little too much right now, but I just feel like it needs to be said. Families are not perfect. The ones that look like they are, aren't. I guess it's okay not to pretend.

However, Christmas morning with my boys, now THAT was perfect. It was. Nothing makes me happier than seeing my kids happy. I mean it. It brought me such joy to watch them open presents and jump up and down with happiness. It's what I imagine Heaven will feel like. My little family means a lot to me.

And now a new year is here and I'd like to jump on the train and say I vow to eat less sugar or remember to exercise every day, but I know I won't. So I simply choose one word. One word to guide me in my actions and my thoughts this year. For 2015 I choose to be content, right where I am. To stop wishing for younger looking skin or a nicer car or more babies. Because the truth is I have everything I need, and if I start playing the comparison game I will never come out on top. There will always be someone with more kids, better skin, a nicer home, and a fatter bank account. I am choosing to focus on what I have, not what you have. It's a daily exercise, but I think it's worthwhile. 

I'm nervous about this year. I turn 30, my oldest starts kindergarten, my baby won't be a baby for much longer. I can attempt to make time stand still, or I can resolve to embrace the changes. To stop pretending that I had any control to begin with.

Happy New Year, friends.