The Magic of Relationships

We just returned home from another Magical Disney trip.  To those of you who think we go all the time... you're right.  To those who don't get it... I don't blame you.  To those who always want to go in our suitcases... I don't blame you either.

After our first trip, Dan immediately started planning our second.  By our third, I would roll my eyes each time he mentioned "next time..."  Seriously.  I love to travel.  I love a good vacation.  Why not go somewhere else?  While I know the pastries are amazing in Epcot's France, they're actually pretty good in Real France, too... why not go there?  Or more local?  Sure.  There are tons of places our car can drive to... let's look there instead?

But Dan was hooked.  And now E was, too.  There was no turning back.

Our trips quickly became part of "us".  We were able to mark growth of our little girl in recognizing which rides she was able to ride- both because of height requirements and because of her own trepidation after a not-so-great moment on Thunder Mountain.  We noted restrooms where we'd first changed diapers, then took a "big girl" shortly after she was potty trained, then later allowed her to go into her own stall.  We experienced the luxury of meeting up with friends at various points along the way and have those memories engrained in our hearts forever.

So whether or not I planned to be a Disney Mom, I became one.

This most recent trip ranked up there among my very favorites.  We had some new experiences- The Flower and Garden Festival at Epcot was new for us, as well as the whole reason for this trip: Star Wars Weekend! Dan had booked the trip back in February as a Daddy/Daughter trip for just him and Elizabeth.  It was to be their one last Disney hoorah before the baby came.  We knew it would be a while before we'd make it back as I'd already declared I would not travel with an infant.  I had planned to stay home and have time to prep the nursery... and relax.  Once we lost the baby, Dan immediately booked my airfare.  Apparently there would be no relaxing, but instead my mental health would be cared for with Mickey Bars and fireworks.

So off we went in search of Jedis and healing in the land of the Mouse.

(**An added bonus of this trip was that our dear friends, the Pettys, were going to be there for their Make-a-Wish trip.  Miss Leah (and her siblings) added to the joy of our "new" experiences.)

On our Epcot day, we had just finished the Nemo ride in The Seas and E wanted to explore the aquarium/learning area.  I honestly thought she might want to skip that and head out in search of more rides.  Thankfully, she did not.  We went upstairs to check out the exhibits... and I couldn't leave.  The dolphins.  Oh, the dolphins.

Quick side story: I've been a big dolphin fan since our honeymoon when we were able to watch them from our resort both morning and night as they went to feed.  We continue to seek out the dolphins when we're at the beach.  There's just something so majestic about them!  The dolphins this trip provided the same awe-inspiring experience for me.

Eventually Dan and E went off to play in the shark learning area, while I stayed and watched these amazing creatures.  I'll admit that while I love Disney, I don't love that the dolphins are in such a small area.  There were two of them on the side of the tank where I was, and appeared to be at least 2 on the other side.  One of them never left the "window" in between where he/she could see the other dolphins.

I watched these dolphins for a long time.  I wondered what it was that connected them.  Was one the other's baby?  The other's mate?  Was one just curious what was on the other side of the "window"?  Or could they see the treats that were being given to the other?  Was it merely environmental?  Or was it relational?

Dan and I debriefed this for a while after he finally pried me away from the window.  I'll never know what it was.  My guess is that it was relational... probably because that's my view of the world.  I long for connection and I ache when it is taken from me.  Like that dolphin, I'll often times ignore the rest of my "tank"... and even the freedom that it brings... by hanging on to the relationship just on the other side of the window.  My hope is that I'm able to balance life on both sides of the tank and focus on the relationships on my side... but I can't be sure I'm able to make that happen.

Leaving The Seas that day, I couldn't stop thinking about those dolphins.  And connections.  They were all around me at Disney.  People were celebrating family and princesses and characters and running for hugs and skipping to the next event.  And that's why I love Disney.  Not for the hype of the park- though I do get caught up in that as well- but for the connections that it brings.

Regardless of which side of the window you're on... there is magic in relationships.

on Mother's Day...

Buying a Father's Day card for my Dad was always hard.  Daddy moved out when I was in 7th grade, so buying one that gave him "rights to the remote!" never seemed to fit.  He lived in his own house with his own remote... I never was in charge of that one.  He didn't golf.  He wasn't in to sports.  I wasn't able to steal his car keys or take cash out of his wallet... and those seemed to be all of the Hallmark-themed Man Cards out there.  I often would stick to "Love, your little girl" and move on.

I found myself in a similar conundrum this year with Mom.  I can no longer go toward the "you're my mother and my best friend" line.  I can't talk about shopping trips.  I can't offer to give her a "day off"... ugh, Hallmark/ American Greetings/ Target... can you help a sister out?  I ended up with one which was super true- and hard to buy at the same time.  It was along the lines of "You taught me how to be a Mom/ I learned from the best."  But buying cards for someone who is no longer the woman you grew up with is tricky.

Mother's Day can be just that... tricky.  I first learned this from my friend, Nicole, after she lost her Mom.  She dreaded Mother's Day.  She got through that first day without her Mom with the help of her husband- that year also marked Nicole's first year with her own child, and Geoff helped her celebrate big in a way that was honoring to both Nicole and her Mom.

This year, Nicole is celebrating her second year without her husband's help.  Geoff died May 2 last year, and Nicole herself has said that maybe we can skip straight from April to July.  (Father's Day is another rough event for her same family... as it is in mine as well.)

So what then?  What about those who don't have a Momma here to celebrate?  Or who don't have a husband here to rally around them so that they are celebrated?  Or those- like us- who longed for so long to be a Mother, only to find pregnancy test after test negative?  My friend, Debbie (a recent widow herself) blogged about her own experience here.  This is her first Mother's Day without the "typical" husband-prompted events.  Rather than put myself in her shoes, I'd love you to read her own words.  And I read this blog post earlier this week directed toward women struggling with infertility... a battle I know too fondly.  In fact, I'm reminded that one year I not only had no child to celebrate, but my due date for one of the babies we lost was on the actual day of Mother's Day.  Ouch.

We all have our own pain, our own grief, our own hard places in life.  Those of us hurting don't ask those of you not to hide your joy- we just appreciate it oh so much when you acknowledge our journey.  My own journey over the last year has led me to be truly intentional on days like this.  Rather than play "the game", I let Dan know of something I'd been wanting to purchase for our family, and asked his blessing to make that gift my Mother's Day/Anniversary gift.  The "extra" treats of my day came in homemade books and self-wrapped candy bars, delivered with breakfast by the sweet little one who first called me Mommy.  I scheduled time with my Mom today, and made sure to make her feel special on this first Mother's Day in our newest stage of life together.  And this evening, Dan and I enjoyed some adult company while my little girl played Star Wars outside with friends until they all smelled like "kids in the summer" and we called it a night.  Truly, I enjoyed my day.  

I won't lie, though... this morning I woke up missing Mary, and quite honestly, missing my Mom.  I have been blessed to have an amazing Mother and Stepmother, and sadly don't have them here to celebrate as I have in years past. What I do have are the qualities that both poured into my life, and for that I am grateful.  I am hopeful that however you spent your day, you had a moment to be grateful for some amazing women in your life, too- however they arrived there.  And on days like this that Hallmark (etc.) don't seem to offer the perfect card for you, know that there are so many others like you out there.  We hurt with you, and we celebrate with you too.

she lied to me.

If you have spent time with me at all in the last 5 years, you know that I have a wee bit of a girl crush on Jen Hatmaker.  Okay... even if you've not... even if you've just read my blog, you probably know the same thing.  I discovered her several years ago when a group of us did one of her Bible studies... and instantly she became my fake BFF.

This weekend, I got to meet her in real life.

Move over, real BFFs... I think Jen just got promoted.

I'm not sure what was happening in this exact second,
but I know Jen and I had just had a moment where we shared our mutual love.
Or our one-sided affection.  Whatever.

Possibly because I'm already at Over The Top Stalker status, I had been in touch with Jen before her event to let her know how excited I was about our upcoming face-to-face time.  Her response to me was something along the lines of "You need to ratchet it down a notch. I'm no good in real life. I don't want you to be disappointed."

She lied to me.

Huge, gigantic lie.

(And maybe I even told her that.)

She was super in real life.  I mean, fantastic.  We share a snarcastic (it's a word) sense of humor... and there were moments I hurt from laughing.  And she shared truth.  Good truth.  Life changing/ world changing truth.

Fantastic.

I won't bore you with the story of how my friends didn't get this picture on my phone.
Promise.

But here's what also happened this weekend... I was able to hear that Truth.

I have- for nearly 5 weeks now- been in The Wilderness.  I'm actually still there... it didn't magically get fixed this weekend.  My heart got broken in early April in a way that it may take a lifetime to recover.  I've had friends help with my healing process- shopping trips and glasses of wine and cups of coffee and mix CDs and space given have all helped.  Dan has loved me well in these weeks.  Elizabeth has been a balm to my wounds.  But what has been so foreign to me in this space is that my usual Comforter has felt so distant.

Now, before you go all Bible on me, I am fully aware that He has never left me.  If anything, I've been the one on vacation.  Yet in this time, my standard responses- prayer, Bible study, journaling- have felt anything but standard.  What has once brought me great comfort has been a foul taste in my mouth... and that hurts.

I have shared this uncomfortable feeling with those closest to me... and with few exceptions, they have given me permission to ache and hurt and walk in The Wilderness.  What has been beautiful is that they have given my heart space to experience this time and have not rushed to "fix it"... because it has not been easily fixed.

What they have also done is fortress-ed around us and done all of the hard work of prayer on our behalf, knowing I have been unable to reach up in my pain.  (In fact, I worried about one sweet friend just yesterday.  As I sat beside her in church, I feared her head might explode from praying- and I'm assuming here- that I would be able to "handle" being back in church for the first time.)  We are blessed with good friends who stand with us and go before us.

I had prepared the girls going with me to hear Jen that I was nervous.  I was fearful I would have a panic attack hearing someone (not my fake new bestie, of course) say something so standard and cliche' feeling that I would run from the church.  I was worried of hearing those "God is always so good even in the pain" lines... which may be Truth, but have not been healing to my pain as they often get handed out so freely.

But you know what?  I didn't hear that this weekend.  What I heard was Jen reminding me of the person of Jesus... who cares about the same things that are my very own heartbeat.  He cares about relationships.  He cares about those hurting.  And that guy?  That guy I like.

I'm still not a big fan of the Band-Aid type of comfort that we so readily push onto hurting people.  Some of the things (cards, books, bumper stickers...) that are sold in Christian bookstores have been enough to make my insides churn over the last 5 weeks.  "Let go and let God", while may be filled with Truth, is enough to make me want to run screaming from places I have once felt so comfortable.  Please, people, when you see hurting people around you (even people you know who may have once handed you Christian-ese lines), please don't say things like this.  Please don't tell them that God clearly had a plan for their _____ ... their loss, their heartache, their pain.  Please don't assume that what they once knew without a shadow of a doubt has not created some doubt in their minds.  That's just it... don't assume.  Ask.  And wait.  And be willing for it to take time and even to look ugly.  Because it might.

Jen handed out Truth this weekend in a way that reminded me of who Jesus is.  She talked about Him... and not about how we should feel.  Those things- His nature and my feelings- can coexist in a tenuous space as I relearn how to trust and as I become what is next.  He is bigger than my issues... and He won't Band-Aid over my broken heart.

So, in a nutshell, time with Jen was awesome.  Except that she lied about 'not being good in person'.  But I guess we'll still be besties because I've invested too much at this point to walk away from our friendship.  That's what you have to do... you have to be willing to stick it out through the tough points.  And it's worth it when your bestie is a girl from Texas who makes you laugh til you hurt and did NOT take out a restraining order on me this weekend.  That's good times, people.

A Letter to the Girl from Monday...

Dear cute 20 year old girl from the Mexican restaurant,

We heard you.

We heard you tell us to "shut up already" as we were paying our bill.  And we're sorry... sorry that you felt we interrupted your meal.  I promise, we never intended to disrupt anyone.  And also?  We weren't that loud.  Believe me... I've been to "Girls Night Out"s before where I know we've been obnoxious.  In fact, there have been nights I've felt like I should leave an apology to other patrons or staff because my friends and I have been too much.  But Monday was not one of those nights.

There were only 7 of us.  Not a huge crowd.  And all of us had "earned" the right to be there.  We'd come from long days where we'd taught children, or served the needy, or worked in an office, or helped at our kid's school.  We'd put in the hours at our jobs and in our homes.  We'd fed our families before we left, we'd made the proper provisions for bedtimes.  We'd answered emails and returned text messages.  We'd exercised and cleaned.  We'd dealt with crying kids and screaming kids and playful kids and needy kids.  We'd completed our days.  And we'd earned that first pitcher of margaritas.

And we shared stories.  We compared notes on children and schools and vacations.  We laughed at things that doctors should never say- in the midst of serious stories of pain and loss.  We made connections through our sisterhood of shared experiences and friends in common.

While we might not be as "cute" or as "young" or as "trendy" as you are, don't fault us.  Our laugh lines and stretch marks are earned.  Our hair may be colored- not to be "ironic"- but to cover some grey.  And we work a little harder to wear the short skirt that you might be able to slip on without thought.  We remember being your age- in fact, we talked about it just that night- and we honor where you are.  So while you may not give pause to where we are in life, you'll get there.

You'll have pain and hurt and joy and love.  You'll experience things you never thought you would.  You'll continue to make friends even though you are certain your best friend making days are over.  You'll look back at hairstyles you have/had and cringe.  You'll wonder why fads were ever popular... yes, maybe even some of those now.  You'll make choices you never imagined making.  You might even choose to drive a minivan- God forbid.  You'll get jobs.  You'll change jobs.  You'll wish things were easier.  You'll look at your body and wonder when you got those laugh lines and stretch marks.  You'll tell your hairdresser to stay away from the "ironic" blues and to go back to more your natural color.  You'll hit the gym so you can wear that short skirt... but honestly, you won't want to buy one *that* short anymore.  You'll have more grown-up taste.

You'll have friends you disagree with.  You'll have conversations that wound your heart and you'll swear not to bring up "that topic" with her again.  You'll see your ex and you'll be thankful for all you learned from that relationship, rather than being heartbroken/thrilled/anxious that you saw him or her in public.  You'll watch people fight on Facebook about topics that were awesome all-night thought provoking conversations once upon a time.  You'll wonder how your family can make you so crazy you could scream... yet you'll say things just as maddening as they do.  You'll find joy in gardening, baking, and cleaning.  You'll pay people to do those tasks because you realize you don't care to.  You'll have daily phone call check-ins with your BFF.  You'll go weeks without talking to her/him and know that something's just not right in your world without their voice.

At the end of the day, you'll look forward to getting together with other people feeling the same way.  People who are tired from making their mark on the world... and who just want to share a few laughs and some chips and salsa.  And you'll see some hipster giving you the stink eye and maybe you'll remember giving us the stink eye, too.  But when you hit that point, remember that you were once young and inwardly focused as well.  Wish that hipster well, and enjoy your second pitcher of margaritas.

You've earned it.

Sincerely,
One of the "old" ladies who you "shushed" at the Mexican Restaurant.

today

Last night I posted this status update on Facebook:

Here's what I appreciate: Friends who let you be honest, even when it's ugly. Friends who let you cry, even when it's awkward. Friends who show up with treats and encouragement, even when it's easier to give "easy" answers. Friends who visit after years apart, even when there are lots of other people on their "need to see" list. Friends who continue to say "I don't know what to say", even when they may be tempted to "fix" it for you. ♥ I am blessed with good friends, y'all.

It was not a passive cry for help, or even a cry for the reader to become the kind of friend I was appreciating in those words.  It was just a way to say "thanks" to the handful of people who have reached my heart in the last few days.  Just yesterday, I had a girlfriend pop over for lunch (we knew she was coming, btw... I'm not doing well with unexpected visitors these days- which is hard for this social girl to comprehend) and gave me a super thoughtful gift.  Rather than tell you all about it now, I'll let you know that I am already crafting a "This kind of thing was helpful in my grief" blog post.  There have been tons out there (here's a great one with links to others... and this is my current favorite that I shared on FB last week), and I fully recommend you read them.  Whether or not you know someone currently grieving, you will... and it's good to have those kinds of "lists" stored in your back pocket.  I've actually been creating my own post for about a year.  I worried if I posted it too soon after Daddy died, it would be seen as a passive-aggressive way to respond to how specific people loved or didn't  love us through that ordeal... so I shied away from posting it.  Just know that it's coming, and while it's not a way to complain about or praise any one person, we have learned first hand in the last 2.5 years what is helpful.  And I'll also tell you that it's not a formula- what worked when Mary died is different from what I need with our most recent loss.  More to come on that...

Anyway, my friend came by with a great treat.  After that, Dan and I spent some time outside working on tackling our junkyard of a garage and our jungle of a garden.  When I went to Well of Mercy in the fall, it was "strongly encouraged" by my favorite nun friends and counselors that I spend time gardening.  The three "seasoned" women who I admire most for their faith are all avid gardeners... funny, I don't think that is just coincidence.  So I got my hands nasty dirty and planted some lovely plants and flowers... and as my skin soaked up the sun I felt good.  This is a huge accomplishment these days.  

We took a break in gardening/cleaning to sit on the deck with some friends of ours who were in town from St. Louis.  This is a couple I knew well from Chapel Hill.  In fact, in my previous life, I served on church staff with the husband of the couple.  Which made it that much more real as I told them of my spiritual struggle these days.  And the beauty of our afternoon was the freedom they gave for me to be honest.  They never told me the "right answers", they never reminded me of all the things I know to be True, they never sugar coated this season.  What they did do was laugh and talk and listen and say "we love you" multiple times during their stay.  (Sneak peak of that blog post I mentioned I'm crafting: they got it right.)

Earlier in the day my precious little one went to church with our friends.  I wasn't quite ready to be there myself, but I value E maintaining routine so we asked friends to take her.  Again, super helpful.  Our dinner last night was provided by friends... helpful.

All in all that sounds like a pretty good day, right?

And then the bottom fell out.  As we were getting E ready for bed, reminders of hurt crept in and I spent a good 30 minutes crying in our bedroom.  I rehashed my pain to Dan, he shared his, and we talked about how to go from here.  E, who is not a fan of her Mommy crying, came into my room with hugs and kisses, flowers (which she brought to me from downstairs, thinking I needed some flowers to cheer me up), and a T-rex puppet show, which made me laugh until my tears changed to those good laughing tears.

I share all of this with you now- not so that you will run straight to your phone to send me a "how are you?" text... although I've enjoyed every one I've gotten from you dear people.  I'm not saying all of this so that my inbox will be flooded with words of encouragement... although I get choked up daily at how great my circle of friends can be.  I don't feel the need to tell you every single thing that I'm thinking or feeling right now... in fact, my journal is serving that purpose quite well when I'm able to put words around it all.  But I share this with you to let you know we're still here.  And we're not okay yet.  And it might be some time before we are.  But we're here, and we appreciate your love and we thank you for allowing this awkwardness and yes, we love your babies and pregnancies and no, we're not mad that you get them and we don't and okay, that last part was kind of a lie because we are mad that we don't get them and yes, this season does suck and yes, we're still planning to be authentic and live life with you even when it's hard.  Whew.  That's a lot.

So for now, know that we made it to today.  We'll wash clothes and take care of our dogs and rearrange some furniture and sort through the piles and live in the hurt... but we made it to today.  Thanks for not expecting us to have more to say than just that.

One Year Later

My senior year in high school, I wanted to go to our last home JV football game... but I wasn't able to.  I don't remember if I was sick- or grounded- but I remember pleading with my mom.  "But Mom... it's the last home JV football game of my high school career!"  Her response (in true Janer fashion) was "Yes.  And this whole year you are going to have lots of 'lasts'.  This will be the last Thursday in October that you are in high school.  But we can't mark every one of them with an event.  That logic won't work this entire year."

Yep.

But that is how I work.  I bench mark days, weeks, events... all of it.  I remember significant dates- the good and the bad- and use it as a marker of where God has brought me.  I do it with lasts... and also with firsts.

These last 5 days have been hard for that very reason.

Friday marked the one-year anniversary of the last time I saw my Daddy.  Last March 22, he and Mom drove down for lunch and to see E's new playhouse.  He and I sat on our porch swing while Mom and E walked through the yard.  We talked about Mom's health deteriorating and how thankful we were that she had an upcoming appointment to help us gain an official diagnosis.  We laughed at how funny E is.  At lunch, he messed with the server by oversharing how we were all connected.  I cried Friday as I passed West Town.  That booth will forever be etched in my memory, as will that day.

the last picture I have of Daddy... he was trying to make E laugh.

Anticipating that Friday would be hard, I kept E home from school and we had a big day.  We took Mom out to lunch and shopping.  I allowed myself to cry when I needed to, and I'm again thankful for friends who aren't scared of my tears.

Saturday marked one year from the last time I spoke with Daddy.  My friend Angela and I were driving to our retreat and he and I had a typical conversation on the phone... ending with me hanging up on him because he said something inappropriate.  I looked at the clock Saturday around that same time and thought "I cannot believe it's been a year since I've heard his laugh."

Sunday, while not the calendar year mark of "the" anniversary, was the one year mark in the traditional sense.  It was as church was letting out that I was trying to reach Dan to let him know the unfathomable news.  Sundays were painful for me for weeks.  This one proved to be the same way... 

And Monday.  The one year mark.  One year since my Daddy left us.  One year since I became as lonely as I have ever been.  One year since I became grown up in ways I never cared to be.  Anticipating the pain of the day, I planned every hour to the fullest.  I met friends for lunch at a spot filled with memories of my Daddy.  I delivered some treats for friends who had "done good" for us over the year.  We had dinner with friends who love us well... and most importantly, love E well.  This whole year has gotten me thinking about who would fill in the gap for her whenever she has to walk down this miserable road.  She is fortunate to have loads of my friends who love her and who would "Momma" her if I weren't around to do it.  While the pain would be no less strong, I know that she, too, would survive.

So as I wrap up my painful anniversary, I want to leave you with some key things Daddy taught me:

1. Always invite people to share a meal with you.  Even when your house isn't clean and you "can't afford it", you'll never regret time spent feeding people you love.  And send home leftovers.  You might lose some Tupperware in the process, but it's worth it.

2. When shopping, if you see something that makes you think of someone else, buy it for them.  This is true of "gifts" as well as groceries.  Daddy stocked up in a "prepper" kind of way... not to take care of his own needs, but so that he could give things away to others.

3. Always take time to talk to someone when they need it.  Even if they make you crazy.  It's not always about you.

4. Keep in touch with people who were part of your life years ago- family doesn't just come from blood relation.

5. Being inappropriate is sometimes exactly what is needed.

6. Tell little people that you love them... and also let them know that you are the boss.

7. Shop at Home Depot.

8. Start traditions... throw parties... go big or go home.

9. Good coffee is made from one coffee scoop/ 3 cups of water (marked on your carafe.)

10. Do good.  All the time.

11. One bonus- not from Daddy- but from that horrible time one year ago: People Puppy Chow helps everything taste a little bit better.

I wish you all could have known him.  He was truly one of a kind.  Half of the time we were grateful for that... because one seemed plenty.  But what I wouldn't give to have another one like him now.  Do good, y'all.  The world needs more people who will.

Second Trimester Honesty

Last week, I posted about how much I struggle with March.  I either tempted fate, karma, satan or something... because true to form, my week deteriorated.  I ended up in the ER Monday night with my asthma flare up, then ended up in the OB on Thursday with some complications from an infection.

Yuck.

All of this was on the tale end of spending the previous week on the couch as a result of a respiratory infection.

Yuck.

So for two weeks, my life was on hold more than I care for it to be... and my emotional state was one train wreck after another. 

We spent the weekend with our Foster Agency at Great Wolf Lodge... Dan and E enjoyed the water park and the Magiquest- I enjoyed time in the room (and a pedicure!).  I'm still not back at 100% breathing wise and my other infection has yet to clear.

But...

I MADE IT TO THE SECOND TRIMESTER!

Woo-hoo!

I am celebrating this milestone- not just because of the obvious "Yay we did it! we are past the yucky risk mark!"... but because... in full disclosure... the first trimester sucked.  Yep.  It did.

There is a huge part of me that doesn't want to post that.  The part who never thought I'd get to experience this miracle of life again.  The part who feels like I've won the "Miracle Lottery".  The part who can't wait to find out gender and plan a nursery.  The part who has recently gotten baby fever by seeing all of these little sweet peas around.  The part who feels flutters in her belly and thinks "Oh this!  This is the good part!"

But it did.  It sucked.

The first 1-2 weeks (6-7 gestation, but 1-2 of our "awareness" of this miracle) were SUCH a rollercoaster.  I couldn't believe it as we began to tell people- I felt like I was on an episode of Punk'd.  I kept waiting for a punch line.  I kept crying over the difference in this pregnancy and last... I re-grieved losing Daddy and Mary and them not knowing this baby... as well as this baby not knowing them.  In full disclosure, I grieved life as I know it- the freedom I have with my self-sufficient 6 year old, our pattern of life, our ease of travel, and the beauty of having an only child.  (Sidenote: I never thought I wanted an only child... as someone with a sibling, I always wanted a sibling for E.  However, there is a beauty that comes with having "just" one that is hard to describe... I know her so well.  She knows me so well.  And part of my rollercoaster was realizing I had to let that go.)

Those first few weeks I was also hit with all of the usual first trimester yuckiness- the exhaustion (and OMW is it worse at 37 than it was at 31!), the nausea, the food aversion... then add that to my illness that kicked in around week 10--- it honestly just. wasn't. fun!

But you can't say that, right?  You have to put on your happy pregnant face and say "We are so thrilled!"  Because honestly we are... but that doesn't make the earlier stuff any less real.  I am sharing my body with a little person who makes my breathing more difficult... that's hard.  I am rethinking everything we thought would be "true" about our lives in the days to come.  I am having to remind myself that plans are made with the potential to be broken.  I am mindful of the miracle, yet living with reality... a fine line to juggle.

And please know that we are thrilled.  Our days now involve discussion of baby names, nursery plans, thoughts of sweet baby smells, E constantly talking about how fun it will be to have a little brother or sister... it's good.  But it's way easier for me to say it's good now that I have my appetite back, I'm not constantly one step away from a nap, and I don't feel like throwing up every time I see an Applebee's ad.  Well, that last one might be an exaggeration, but that might not just be due to pregnancy...

Just because you're on the receiving end of a blessing- and one that you want to receive- doesn't mean it's always easy.  I never thought I'd be the one saying those words, but how true they have become in the last 13 weeks.  Looking forward to the next 27 and praying for good health along the way.  Oh, and sweet baby?  If you're reading this later?  EVERY MOMENT we waited for you was worth it.  It was just kinda hard sometimes.  Life is hard... blessings and all.