Welcome! I'm Angela. This is my little corner of the web where I write about my adventures as a boy mom. I love my husband and my kids and coffee and all things chocolate. I'm a horrible cook but I love reading recipes. I am currently teaching my five year old how to read and the importance of hygiene. My other boy is currently teething, so I may sound a little sleep deprived at times. We're a homeschooling, slightly crunchy bunch. We're a little cooky but we sure do love being a family. We can be found down by the river every weekend.

Monday, December 28, 2015

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.

Tuesday, December 8, 2015

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.

Friday, December 4, 2015

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.