My sister says I have to write about happy things for awhile. She says my blog is too heavy.
Well, sis, I’ve been thinking about what you said, and I was going to do it, but then life happened. And sometimes it’s just gets so incredibly messy. It’s just one thing after another and you feel like you just can’t get a breath of air.
It just didn’t feel right to write up a few happy, fluffy blog posts to keep the atmosphere light when that didn’t reflect what was truly going on in my life, so I’m going to just dive in and tell you what happened next. The real deal.
WHERE’D YOU GET THAT?
sunnies | tank | pants | birkenstocks
I just got back on the mat and if felt AMAZING.
I know Instagram photos may seem to tell a different story, but these last few months, (I guess year, actually), have been super challenging for myself and my family.
One big reason is that I have undergone two unexpected surgeries within the span of four months time. When I look back through my pictures I see how flowing maxi dresses can easily cover the scars and swelling. No one would know, unless I shared of course. I think it’s important to share because it could help others who may end up on a similar journey.
If God was a genie in a bottle, what would you ask him for?
No, I’m serious, just go there for a moment with me. Go ahead. Write down your wish list. Here is mine:
I have some really inspiring friends.
I learn so much from them — especially by watching how they handle the curve balls life that can throw our way. One thing they have taught me — and demonstrated by their actions — is the importance of practicing gratefulness, and the ability to turn even extremely difficult circumstances into something good.
It was hard work transitioning Cal to preschool this past Fall. It’s such a lovely little play school. The teachers are gently and kind, the room is full of fun toys and he gets to play with water, play dough, sand, dirt — everything a kid could want. But he cried and clung to me and didn’t want to let me drop him off and leave.
This was not one of the parts of parenting I had given much thought to. My heart felt like it was breaking watching him sob and cling to me. It hurt me so much — I would sit at my desk at work with my stomach in knots asking myself if I am doing the right thing.
I love my crew of girl friends, they are smart, funny, loyal, and sharp as hawks — and they totally called me out about my instagram posts looking altogether too pretty.
You see, they know the state of my kitchen, and no, it’s not perfectly picked up and organized and shining. They know the state of my house, God love them, and they KNOW I picked things up in that one little corner of the house before that photo was snapped. So that little square frame that you see on instagram looks effortless, but really it was me rushing around sweating and pushing toys and dishes and who knows what else to the side, to get that one pretty little shot.
I’m honestly surprised and thrilled at the responses I have received so far in these few short months my blog has been live and so I thought I would take a few minutes to explain a little more about why I started this blog, and what I hope to achieve with it some day.
Sometimes while waiting for your miracle, it can begin to feel like miracles don’t really happen. Sometimes, when tragedy strikes, it can feel like this world we live in is only full of tragedy.
I wish I could bottle up the feeling you have when something comes together so beautifully in your life, in such a creative way, that it truly feels miraculous. I would keep this bottle in my bathroom cabinet and open it and sprinkle it on me on days like today. Cover myself with some of that glorious hope.
He rarely tells me I look pretty. When I first married him, I thought — this was an issue we will definitely need to work on. I cringe at how much I reminded him that first year of how he wasn’t measuring up in this area. The poor guy resorted to calendar reminders to remember to buy me cards or text me something sweet. I would see the reminders pop on the iPad we shared –there is nothing sexy about “romance” scheduled. Or is there?
I hate that word so much. I remember bristling when I heard someone use it in my diagnosis for the first time. How could they say that? I wasn’t infertile, I was just not pregnant yet, right? But nope, when you pass that year mark of TTC (trying to conceive), and there is no conception, well, then you get labeled that ugly, ugly word.
My close friends, and even not so close friends, know I am pretty open about my struggles to get pregnant. Writing them on a blog like this is the first time I have committed to really being open on such a public forum, I guess I feel like it’s time to write about it. It’s been a five year journey, and it’s not over yet, so maybe if I can help just one person by sharing my story, I can help it not be such an all-around crappy situation.