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This weekend made the 3rd year Adam and I have gone to the mountains in north Georgia. We've been to "other mountains" throughout the years, but these mountains.... they hold a special place in my heart.

I've waited to post pictures from our trip because I haven't had the words to say what I'd like to say to caption those pictures. I'm still not sure exactly how to put what I'm feeling into words. How do you express how overwhelmed and thankful you are? How do you put into words the feeling of living out your prayers?

The first year Adam and I took this trip, we kind of just went, randomly. We'd been married for two years at this point. We didn't know what we'd do when we got up there; we just rented a cabin and went. The first morning, we went to eat breakfast in town. Someone told us about a huge festival that happened to be that same weekend. We didn't have any plans, so we thought we'd go check it out. (Well, I probably begged and Adam agreed to go). I wish I'd gotten our picture that year, but I don't think I did. Anyways, it was a good trip. We didn't know it at the time, but only two weeks later we'd decide to start trying to get pregnant.

We enjoyed our trip so much that we decided to go back the following year. We'd been married for three years. This year was a little different from the last. I was now taking hormones to help us get pregnant since our attempts had been unsuccessful. At this point, I was completely frustrated with the whole process. It had only been a year, but it seemed like ten. I even took tests up there with us because it would "be time" for me to check. We went to the same festival we'd gone to the previous year and had a great time, but there was a part of me that ached every time a pregnant belly walked by or every time we saw a booth selling cute stuff for babies and kids. 

We visited one vendor that sold hand stamped jewelry. Adam bought me a necklace from them that has been very special to me ever since. I picked out each piece and had it customized: a charm with our initials along with the phrase "love story", our anniversary date on one of them, a heart stamped on another. We walked away from that tent with my new necklace hanging around my neck and I looked at Adam and said, "I hope one day we can add our baby's name to this necklace."

There was another tent that I specifically remember. They sold hand painted, wooden crafts for kids' rooms. I, obviously, did not have a baby, but I walked through anyways. I looked at the door hangers with hand painted names and the wooden bow holders. I thought to myself, "I hope...pray that one day I can come back and buy something for my baby from this tent!" We went back to the cabin that day and sat by the river. I journaled, trying to get all of my feelings out on to paper-the sadness, the anger and frustration. On the last day of our trip, I got up early that morning, eager to take a test. I was devastated; another negative. I didn't know it at the time, but I'd only have a few more months of waiting. We got pregnant with Ava towards the end of that December.

Fast forward TWO years, to this year, because what hormonally unstable, first time mama can take her not even one month old on an overnight trip?!?! (we skipped last year!) This past weekend, we took our baby girl up to the same place, we packed three times as much stuff, we took her to that same festival and we had a blast. The first day we took her to a huge pumpkin patch, went on a hay ride and picked out our pumpkins! It was so much fun and Ava loved it!






























The next day, we went to the huge festival! It was so surreal to be walking around that same festival two years later with a baby in a stroller. It was there, two years ago, that I was begging God for a

baby (and had been for almost a year at the time). The thing I was most excited about was adding Ava's name and birthday to my necklace. We started down the rows of tents and went back and forth, looking at each of them. The jewelry girls weren't set up in the same place they were two years ago. In fact, they weren't out in the open with majority of the vendors, so Adam and I assumed they hadn't come this year. We made our way to look at the tents under the covered area and I was so surprised to see their booth! I picked out two charms--one for Ava's name and one for her birthday and had them added to my necklace. I treasured it before, but it's even more special now. We walked over to more

tents and I was shocked that the same vendor was there selling hand painted wooden crafts for kids' rooms. I just can't even explain how crazy it felt to be in the same place looking at the same things, but with different circumstance. God heard my cries. He answered my prayers. He gave us one of the greatest gifts. Every time I put her to sleep or got her up from a nap or saw her playing in the floor in the cabin, I just thanked God for His blessing.


I thanked him for hearing me. I thanked him for being so gracious to me. I picked out a bow holder from that tent to hang in Ava's room. It will not only serve the purpose of holding her bows, but it's also a reminder to me of God's faithfulness, his goodness, his love, his grace. He held me and walked with me through what has been one of the hardest times of my life.

We made our way home today and I watched Ava sleep. And I just kept saying, "Thank you, God. Thank you." You didn't have to answer my prayer. You didn't have to bless us with a child. I could've waited longer than I did. I'm just so thankful and grateful for my baby girl and God teaches me more about his love for me through my love for her.

The Girls I'm Jealous Of...

"How's that?! Being a mama?" Oh if she only knew... Girl, you'd be rinsing and shampooing my hair for days if I fully unloaded that question with you. So, instead I just say, "It has been a big adjustment. It was really hard at first, but it has gotten easier." She rinses the color from my hair and I tell her that becoming a mama has made me feel old. I try to explain that while I am still young I don't feel young anymore. I don't expect her to understand what I mean. She tries to convince me that I am still young. I go on to tell her about how I drove through the dorms the other day while college kids were moving in..........and I was taking my baby to the park.
Yeah, I'm a mom now.

Sometimes I'm envious of them; the college girls in the store picking out decorations for their dorms while I wrestle a fussy baby in the cart; running on the sidewalk in their zone while I listen to a baby scream in the back seat, eating out with friends while I wipe pureed peas off my arm, listening to them talk about their plans for later on while I change a poopy diaper in the bathroom stall, the girl who rinsed and washed my hair leaving work to go do whatever she wants tonight while I go home and put my baby to bed and then do the same myself. Oh to be young and carefree again, I think.

I leave my hair appointment and drive home. I'm alone in the car and I find myself turning up the radio and singing along to a simple song, soaking in the 15 minutes before I have to be "Mama" again. I drive and sing and in those moments I'm carefree. And it feels good. It feels easy and light. I feel like me, well, the old me. I remember that girl and I'm reminded that she's still there.

Tonight as I rock my baby to sleep, she wraps her arms around my neck. She squeezes me tight and her tiny fingers run through my hair. She lays her head on my shoulder and I sway with her in my arms. And in that moment, I realize that those college girls, the ones I'm sometimes envious of, the carefree girl at the hair salon, they just don't know any better. They haven't experienced this kind of love yet. In a way, they don't know what they're missing. But it's okay, because their time will come.

I want to stop them, grab them by the shoulders and tell them to enjoy their days of being carefree; that one day they will look at girls just like themselves and be jealous, but to not worry because they'll also come to realize we're the lucky ones. Yes, if they knew better, they would envy me.

Having a baby has taught me that I'm stronger than I thought; that I do have the ability to put someone else before myself; that I can love so fiercely and greater than I knew was possible. I'm so proud that Ava is mine. She can't even do much, but I look at her and I'm proud. I'm proud to be a mama; her mama. You just can't understand the gravity and the weight that comes with that role, until you're put in it. But, when the time is right, they will. They'll learn that this new self is just a better version of who they were before. Life has a different meaning now, your perspective changes and you live life differently.

I hold my baby and rock her and in those moments I realize that being her mama is far greater than anything else I have given up.

The Crap Day

My hands had begun to shake. I'm not sure if it was due to the morning I was having or if it was past time for me to eat. Either way I pulled into a fast food place. I needed something quick.

Baby girl had finally fallen asleep sometime between leaving the Dr.'s office and now. I wouldn't be able to go in, but I needed to eat and I would make it work somehow. I could drive and try to juggle the wheel and my food, but I figured I that since I'm a Mama now I should probably make a responsible decision and not attempt that. Oh, I know! I'll park in a parking space and eat.... quickly.

I pulled up to the drive thru, feeling like crap about my lunch choice. Did this place even pass their last health inspection? Who cares. I was hungry and I didn't have time to look for somewhere with a salad.

The sweet girl opened the window and asked "How are you doing?". She didn't know I was a new Mama, overwhelmed, stressed, and dealing with post-partum hormones, or trust me, she would not have asked. I held back tears and managed to get out an insincere "Fine". Poor thing. She had no clue. If I was to honestly answer that question I probably would've been there all day. And my baby would have to eat again soon.

She didn't have any idea that I barely made it out the door on time this morning. She didn't know that I only got to eat one piece of my half jellied toast for breakfast because my baby being clothed, warm, and ready to go was more important than my belly being full. She didn't know that I had just left the Dr.'s office, which was a nightmare in itself. She had no clue that my baby throwing up all over me before getting out of the Dr.'s office was just icing on the cake.

When I got into a parking spot I finally called my husband back. He attempted to reach me during the chaos earlier and I wasn't able to get to my phone. After leaving, I needed a few minutes to compose myself. If I were to call him back right then, I would've lost it for sure.

After telling him about her appointment, he asked what I was doing. I told him I just got some food and was eating it in a parking space. When I actually said it out loud I almost burst into tear. There I was; covered in throw up, eating fast food in a parking lot. This is my life now, I thought.

This time last year I would've had time to go eat wherever I wanted. I would've been able to go inside and sit down and take my time. I wouldn't have had to scarf down food because I was out of town and my baby was between feedings. I would've been able to run to Target like I was planning to do. I could've gone to any store I wanted, for that matter, and taken as much time as I wanted.

This time last year I was praying for a little baby. There was nothing I wanted more.

I'm so thankful that God blessed me with my little girl.

But, today was one of those days. There was nothing glamorous about it. It's been one you just do your best to get through and hope that tomorrow will be better. It's been one where I'm so thankful for a God who sees me. All of me. Tired, overwhelmed, doubting whether I'm doing a good job, feeling like I might scream if my baby doesn't stop screaming, getting to the end of this day and running below E, feeling like I've given all energy and effort away and having nothing left. He's there. He understands. He gives me rest and recharges me.

I know that it will get better because it has been better. Every day isn't like this and every day won't be like this.

But, today was a crap day. And I'm so ready for bed!

Things No One Told Me

I sat in the glider in my baby's nursery. I held her to my chest and tears streamed down my face. "Why didn't anyone tell me it would be like this?"

No one told me this mommy thing was such hard work.
No one told me she may not be a good napper.
No one told me she may fight sleep.
No one told me she may not follow the "eat, wake, sleep" routine...or any routine for that matter.
No one told me she may be feisty and have a temper. (Yes, at only 5 weeks)
No one told me how awful it is to watch your baby cry out in pain.
No one told me how helpless I would feel when I can't make that pain go away.
No one told me just how long a baby is capable of crying for.
No one told me that sometimes, no matter what I do, she will keep crying....and crying.
No one told me that the crying would make me feel like I'm going to lose my mind.
No one told me there would be days when I'm not sure if I've brushed my teeth...or peed...or eaten.
No one told me how difficult it is to be home with a baby all-day-long.
No one told me how exhausted I would be.

But thankfully...

No one told me how sweet her skin would smell.
No one told me how soft her skin would feel.
No one told me how little her fingers and toes would be.
No one told me how kissable those tiny lips are.
No one told me she really would look like an angel when she sleeps.
No one told me how long I could just stare at her.
No one told me how sweet her snuggles would be.
No one told me how it would feel when her big blue eyes stare into mine.
No one told me how interesting it would be to watch her discover the world around her.
No one told me how perfectly she would fit in my arms and on my chest.
No one told me how much I would want to protect her and keep her safe.
No one told me how fiercely I could love this tiny person that I hardly know anything about.

...because even on the days that bring me to tears, I'm so happy I have her.

Birth Minus the Plan

Our sweet girl was born on Thursday, September 25th at 2:06 a.m.

Let me preface by saying that I was very much wanting a "natural" birth. As natural as can be in a hospital setting. I had "made up mind" to not get an epidural but secretly kept it as an option in case the pain became unbearable (go ahead and laugh, trust me, I don't remember one person I told throughout my pregnancy supporting my decision!). I even had a birthing ball loaded up in the car, people. I wanted my soon-to-be sister in law in the delivery room to capture the first moments of our sweet baby entering the world and our first moments as a family of three. I wanted to help pull her out (yes, really) and bring her to my chest, but if I wasn't able to, then Adam would. Once a few pictures were taken, we would be left alone for "the magic hour" where the three of us would bond, baby would lay on my chest and hopefully start to nurse. A couple hours later, we would receive a few visitors at a time, nothing too overwhelming. I would take in each family member's reaction to seeing our sweet girl for the first time and beam with pride.

I tried to keep an open mind knowing that things may not go exactly how I wanted them to. I was prepared for any scenario, or so I thought...


On Thursday, the 18th I went in for my 39 week appointment and was told my cervix was thinning a little, but I hadn't dilated any. Yay for a little bit of progress! I was scheduled to be induced the Wednesday, September 24th just in case we chose to go that route (this would eliminate my "natural birth" plan.

The following Tuesday (the 23rd), I went to my 40 week appointment to see how I was progressing, if at all. I was told that my cervix was 90% thinned out and I was dilated about a centimeter. I decided against being induced the next day (Wednesday) because I felt confident she would come on her own. I decided to give her another week and push the induction off to the next Tuesday if I still wasn't progressing.

I was very crampy all Tuesday afternoon and throughout the night. I assumed it was from my exam that day. I woke up the next morning still cramping. I wasn't able to tell if I was having contractions because it all felt like a dull pain with no start or end.

I got up and started finishing up things around the house in case this was it (baby girl had given us some false alarms in the days prior). I ate a decent breakfast because I was scared to death of going into labor and not being able to eat in the hospital.

By 9:00 a.m. I was almost certain I was in the early stages of labor. I didn't know if I would deliver that night or in the following days, but I could tell my body was getting ready to have this baby! I sent a text to all of the grandmas giving them a heads up. The pain continued to be noticeable, but it wasn't unbearable.

By 11:00, the cramping was becoming a little more intense to where I'd have to pause and breathe through it until it would pass, but still nothing like my idea of a contraction. I asked my Mama to come over and help me with some things on her lunch break. She came over right away. My mother-in-law came over (from across the street) to check on me before my Mama made it to the house. Some time between 9 and 11 I started leaking fluid, but I didn't think it was my water. After all, that was supposed to burst like a balloon in the middle of Wal-Mart, right?

By 12:00 my Mama and MIL were urging me to go to the hospital. I didn't feel the need to rush because I was wanting to labor at home for as long as possible, but at the same time I didn't know what to expect because I had never done this before! I sent a text to my sweet, friend who is a nurse and asked if she could check my progress before driving all the way to Macon. At this point I was having stronger cramps, but still nothing like what I'd expect a contraction to feel like. She checked me and told me my water had broken and that I was dilated 3 cm. Say what?! I remember her exact words, "You need to go to the hospital. You're gonna have a baby today!" she said in the sweetest, most calm tone. I have never felt more scared as I did in that moment. There's no way she didn't see the fear and uncertainty in my eyes. This was it. No turning back. And I was second guessing my ability to actually get this baby out. This friend is a natural encourager. She reassured me that I would be great and I thought to myself, "Can I just stuff you in my hospital bag and take you to the hospital with me?"

Well, this was it. I was headed to Macon.

Adam was out of town working on a job that he had been putting off because we thought Ava would have come by now. We even joked around the night before as he talked to her in my tummy telling her, "You can't come tomorrow!". I had been keeping him updated all morning, but assured him he didn't need to come home because this was probably just another false alarm. So, I felt awful having to call and tell him I was headed to Macon. I don't think either of us planned on things going like this. We were supposed to be together. I was supposed to scream all the way to Macon (except I was taking these contractions like a champ) and he was supposed to help me breathe through them. Every time I'd talk to him on the phone I almost didn't recognize his voice. I'm not sure what it was, but he sounded so different. I can't imagine what all was going through his mind.

By the time I got to Macon, time was becoming a blur. I don't really remember exactly what happened when. By the time I got to a room, maybe around 2:30, I was 4 cm. I had dilated a whole centimeter just during the car ride to Macon? I didn't even scream! Maybe I could do this drug free after all! I continued to breathe through the contractions and they started to get more intense.

I continued to progress, but baby's head wasn't fully engaged, so they didn't want me to walk around. This was not the plan. I did not want to labor in the hospital bed. That was the point of no epidural--being able to move around! But I understood. I definitely didn't want her cord or an arm slipping out.

Time continued to pass and I continued to progress. 5 cm. 6 cm. Almost 7 cm. By now, the pain was becoming too much for me to handle. I was allowed to get out of bed and sit in the rocking chair, so I tried that for a little while, but I found that it felt better to stand and lean into Adam. I wasn't getting much of a break between contractions and it was wearing me out! Adam did great helping me through them, even though I had a few of those stereotypical pre-epidural moments.

He and my Mama (along with the nurse) had started talking about me getting an epidural. The theory was that maybe if I got an epidural, it would help me relax and therefore my body may progress faster. [I want to say that yes, the pain was intense, but my body was dealing with it. I was zoned out and although I felt it, the slow progression of intensity made it easier for me to deal with. I know they hated seeing me in pain, but I feel like it was worse for them to watch than it was for me to actually go through it. No, I am not saying it was easy, but it's birth, not a cake walk!]

Another reason I did not want an epidural is because I did not want to have to get Pitocin. Sometimes epidurals slow labor down and Pitocin is used to help "speed it back up". Since I was so far along, I decided to go ahead and get an epidural. After all, it was still an option even though I said I had made up my mind. Hopefully I would relax and my body could continue to progress. And honestly, I was more afraid of pushing her head out and feeling every single thing than dealing with the contractions, transitioning, and even the early stages of pushing.

After getting the epidural, the contractions were much easier to deal with. Fast forward a few hours and I'm still at a 7. Pitocin came into the picture and my perfect plan was falling apart quickly. The external monitor showed my contractions to be quite intense and coming in close intervals. The doctor thought I should be progressing quicker than I was if what the monitor was showing was accurate. I had read about this... these doctors will rush you. They want you in and out. This was my fear. He wasn't giving my body enough time to progress. I could do it, just give me time! Since I wasn't progressing quick enough for him, he decided to use an internal monitor to get a more accurate read of how intense my contractions really were, so they would know how much Pitocin was needed. What? Please don't stick anything in there. There's supposed to be something coming out not going in. [Keep in mind, my water had broken around 11:30 a.m. and they were wanting to get baby out within 12 hours to "prevent infection".] I don't know what time it was, but we would be approaching the 12 hour mark soon.

Progress was slow, if anything at all. I was pumped with Pitocin and epidural meds and at this point the doctor had mentioned a C-section if things didn't speed up. I'm pretty sure I shed tears at this suggestion. No. No way. That's not an option for me. I'm young, fairly in shape, and I will push this baby out. This doctor was not my doctor who I had seen for most of my pregnancy; that I trusted. He was one in the same practice as my doctor. And I was not a fan of his. I was the only one there that night in labor and he was just ready to get home. No, C-section was not an option.

Finally, maybe around 11:15 p.m., I was checked one last time. A 10! I was a 10! The doctor said I would be ready to start pushing soon! Carts started rolling in. The nurse started getting things ready. I was about to push! This was it. I had made it. The plan had taken some unexpected turns, but I was finally here. I'd push for a little while, maybe a couple hours, and our baby would be here. I got very excited and I was ready!

Turns out this pushing thing is extremely difficult when you're not sure if the bottom half of your body is still attached. Within the first few tries, I got discouraged. I couldn't tell if I was pushing or just busting blood vessels in my eyeballs. I tried to take that frustration and focus it into my pushes. [Side note: Why do they expect a woman with a huge belly to be able to pull her legs up and basically do a crunch 3 times in a row for 10 "seconds"?--hospital seconds last longer than seconds in the real world-- I'm not sure I could do that exercise before I was pregnant.] Anyways. I tried many different pushes. I did the typical pull your legs and push. Then I tried playing tug of war with one of the nurses using a towel. I guess this helps you push. But, baby's head wasn't moving. So then I tried some kind of push that involved me being on my side and pulling my leg up like I was working out my obliques. Still, baby's head wasn't moving.

The doctor returned to check on my progress and once again reminded me that a C-section would be necessary if she didn't start to come down.

I tried with all I had to push her out. I remember feeling so scared of the possibility of a C-section and once again trying to harness that fear into my pushes. He let me push a little longer.... And then he basically didn't give me an option. I would have to deliver my baby via C-section. After almost two hours, she wasn't making any progress and her head was beginning to swell.

I have never been so terrified in my life. No, you don't understand. I literally freaked out. I did not want to be cut open. I did not want my baby to go straight to the nursery after birth. I wanted to be the first to see her and enjoy her and take her all in. Some people may be grossed out by it, but I wanted the blood and the cheesy coating and the freshness of her entering the world. This would ruin my birth story. What about my pictures? I wanted the whole experience of birthing her. But, somehow I felt I was being robbed of that experience.

Panic set in (along with being completely exhausted and overwhelmed) and I begged and pleaded for Adam to help me. "I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't have a C-section. I don't want to." I screamed through tears. "Please don't make me do it. I'll push harder. Please just let me keep pushing." But no one was giving in. I was scared to death, but more than that, I felt like a failure. My body wasn't able to do what it was meant to do; what it was designed to do. Tears stream down my face as I type these words and relive those awful moments. Moments of fear. Moments of defeat. Moments of feeling like I missed out.

Adam tried to comfort me and help me understand that this was what was best for our baby. Her head was swelling and we just needed to get her out. Looking back, I don't think the reality of that really sunk in for me at the time. I thought if I could keep pushing that I could get her out and she'd be fine.

My Mama tried to comfort me. She held back tears and told me I could do it; that this was being a Mama--doing what's best for your child even when it's something you don't want to do. I hated hearing that. And then I realized how selfish I was being in those moments. And I hated that even more. Why couldn't things go how I wanted them to? It wasn't fair.

I scribbled my signature onto a piece of paper and was wheeled away to a different room. Not long after, I felt immense pressure as she was pulled out. And just like that, she was born. I saw her for a few seconds and then she was taken away.

She went to the nursery where my family got to watch her first moments of life. Moments that I can never be a part of. And Adam went with her. I guess she's just a little diva and wanted everyone to see her big debut. She didn't want a quiet, low-key entrance into the world where only Mommy and Daddy were the audience, which was part of my plan!

I had endured hours of contractions; hours of pushing. I was cut open. I did all of the hard work. And somehow I was left alone. Just me lying there on a table being sown back up; doctors and nurses talking amongst themselves like I wasn't even there. I was supposed to be knocked out with meds by this point, but they had given me all the meds they could to try to knock me out and it wasn't working. They weren't able to give me anything else, so I was awake the entire time. I didn't feel a thing, but I was awake. No baby in my arms right away. No family of three. No peaceful bonding. None of the pictures I wanted. I'm not sure I'll ever be okay with that, but I hope some day I make peace with it.


It seemed like forever before I got to see her. I'm telling you- I asked those nurses ten times where my baby was and what was taking so long. I was about ready to crawl down the hall and find her myself.  Finally, Adam wheeled her back to the recovery room and I was able to hold her and enjoy her. We were finally together. She was the most precious thing and I loved her immediately. I was scared I wouldn't feel like she was my baby, but she was and I was so proud. She laid on my chest and when I talked to her, she recognized my voice. It was amazing.


Things didn't go according to plan that day. But, since then, I have reflected and realized that despite how she came into the world, she is here and she is healthy. We left the hospital a few days later with our baby girl; a happy family of three, we headed home. I realize this is not the case for all parents. There are a number of things that could've gone a lot worse that day; like a stillbirth or major complications with either of us. She could be in the NICU right now instead of sleeping peacefully here in our home. I could still be praying through tears and begging God for this sweet baby. No, I don't have the exact pictures I wanted, but the ones I do have are of a healthy baby being weighed and checked in the nursery; of me seeing her for the first time and being overwhelmed with love for her, even if it did take a little longer than I would've liked.

With all of that said, yes, a part of me will always ache for that "normal" delivery experience, but I cannot deny the blessing God has given us; regardless of how she got here. This time last year, I didn't care how one came, I just wanted a baby. I would've done anything. She is an answer to many prayers and I can't wait to tell her the story behind her precious life.

Ultimately, we have a happy ending to our story; even though her birth didn't go according to my plan. For that, I am extremely thankful.

Before Life Changes

I woke up early this morning and couldn't fall back asleep for hours. For whatever reason, through all the chaos going on in my brain, I remembered that our "engagement anniversary" (no, this is not something we celebrate and I only remember the date because it is documented on Facebook) was either yesterday or today. When I checked the date, I realized that it was yesterday. Five years ago yesterday. We both made a decision that changed our lives.

 

At 3:45 (a.m.) I could not get my mind to stop turning. I couldn't stop thinking about all that has happened since September 14, 2009. I started looking through all of my pictures on Facebook and re-living each memory-all the way back from high school when we first started dating. It was actually a sweet time as we are about to have a baby girl and life is going to forever change for us.

 

I can't help but think about how young we were; how much we thought we knew (but really didn't); the things we thought we had figured out. At 20 and 21 years old, we were just kids! We didn't have a clue about marriage and how to "make it work". We didn't know what we were doing! He wasn't even legal (ha)! We really had no idea how much we would have to figure out. We had no idea how hard the first year or so would be (we both agree--it wasn't exactly a fairy tale). We just knew we had each other and that was all that really mattered. We knew we would make it work, one way or another.

 

A week away from my due date, I'm starting to see a parallel. At 24 and 25, I'm sure we don't have as much figured out as we think we do! We are still young. We have no idea what we're doing when it comes to parenting. I'm sure the first year or so will be hard. It will be new and different. Lots of things will change, just like they did after we got married. We thought we knew each other, and we did, but being married, you learn so much more about someone. I'm sure once we become parents, the same will apply. Life won't just be about "us" anymore. It will also be about our little girl. I can't even imagine how much will change, but I don't doubt that we will figure it out as we go. We will learn what it means to be "Mommy and Daddy" just like we learned how to be husband and wife. In a matter of minutes, life will forever change. A part of me is scared I won't remember "us" and what we were like before baby. A part of me has forgotten what it was like before I was pregnant (believe me, life changes)! I'm sure I will remember and some things may not change much, but just in case, I'm writing this.

 

Right now, we come and go as we please. We can up and go out of town if we want to with no real planning except getting a bag together and making sure the dogs are taken care of. Every night could be date night. The only thing we have to take care of are the dogs and each other-all of which are rather low maintenance. We get uninterrupted sleep each night. We can sit in silence if we want. We can simply walk out of the house whenever we want. Whenever we're home together, we always have the others undivided attention.We know if we want to go anywhere, it takes me about an hour to get ready and then we're off!

I know I will miss these days; just like I miss the days of dating.

Things changed when we got married and things will change when our baby is born.

We are both pretty excited though! We can't wait to meet Ava and see what she's like. I don't think it will be easy, but somehow we will make it work.

Before we talked (seriously) about getting engaged, it clicked for me: There was no one else that I'd want to go through life with. There was no one else that I'd want to learn and grow with. Honestly, there were probably not many other guys who could deal with me (but really). I know that I got a good one! He's been a great husband so far and I know he's going to be an amazing daddy!

So as we live these "last days" of just us, I am trying to soak up and enjoy every moment of it.... before life changes!

When Life Isn't Pinteresting

I don't think there's anyone out there who hasn't at least heard of Pinterest.

Urban Dictionary defines Pinterest as: a social networking site that allows you to figuratively "pin" pictures of your likes/interests in a simple, organized fashion

OR as I recently heard it (more accurately) described in a message by Steven Furtick:
A visually-driven social media platform strategically designed for non-stop, 24 hour a day, seven day a week reminders that your kids are not as well dressed as your neighbor's kids, your home is decorated like crap, the pictures you take on your own phone are comparatively artless, you did a terrible job planning your own wedding, and that you live a generally tedious, monotonous, painfully dull existence that is slowly draining the life out of you, unlike everyone else in your life whose lives are categorically awesome at all times.

It's true. Everything on Pinterest is picture perfect.

For example, Pinterest:














Reality:

There is a whole website dedicated to "Pinterest fails". I think this definitely makes the cut. As you see, there are no sticks in my "pops". That's because the Oreo broke every time I tried to put the stick in. Yes, I tried different techniques.

While making these "pops" I thought, this is my life right now. These horrible looking Oreos sitting on my counter are my reality and this picture-perfect-Pinterest picture I'm looking at is the image I'm portraying.

For those who don't know, I'm about 8 months pregnant. Being pregnant is something that I have wanted for a long time. You know those people who claim to love being pregnant so much? Yeah, I'm not one of those people. Let's just be honest... (guys who may be reading, for whatever reason, and think women "just shouldn't talk about some things", you might want to click the X in the top right corner. It's about to get "un-lady-like". And this is my blog, so I can pretty much say whatever I want! Don't say I didn't warn you) ... as I was saying-- from throwing up, to gas, constipation, occasional leaks of pee, having to pee all the time (when you haven't peed on yourself), along with swelling, aches, pains, and general discomfort, oh! I forgot strange cravings, feeling like you could eat the whole house, but not having enough space in your tummy because that little bundle is taking up all the room, and then heartburn/reflux that feels like lava could spill out of your mouth at any minute..... you're still reading?! Sorry, I'm supposed to be talking about all the wonderful things about being pregnant. I got a little off track! Those are just a few of the things I've experienced during this pregnancy (TMI as it may be, it's true. Sorry), not to mention all of the emotional changes that have been WAY worse than the physical changes, at least for me!

Honestly, being pregnant is not always an enjoyable thing, again, at least in my case. I can't explain how guilty I have felt for feeling this way while being pregnant. My husband and I prayed for this little baby for a long time before she finally came about (and don't think my sweet hubby hasn't had to remind me of that a few times throughout the pregnancy!).

Looking back on the past 30 weeks, I feel bad for not "enjoying" every second of it. I feel ungrateful. I feel selfish. Because I remember the longing to get pregnant and become a momma. I remember reading facebook statuses from girls who were pregnant and thinking, I don't care if I throw up every single day, I just want to be pregnant! And I know there are tons of women out there who feel that exact same way. You'd do anything just to create life and become a parent. To all of those women, I apologize. I said I would never take a day of being pregnant for granted, but I have. I said I would never complain, but I (definitely) have.

Aside from all of those things, I mostly feel like a fake (well at least for the past month or so). Because, if I'm being honest, it has not been all sunshine and rainbows. I know, I know. The cute selfies on instagram and all the sweet comments about how precious my bump is, the amazing maternity pictures my soon to be sis in law *eek!* took of us on the beach--adorable. I know! But around 24 weeks something changed. Up to this point, I guess you could say I had enjoyed being pregnant. I wasn't overly happy all the time, but I wasn't sad about it either. I was somewhere in the middle.

Around 24 weeks, everything changed. I turned into a crazy woman (yes, I was kind of crazy already). Blame it on hormones or whatever you want, but I did not feel like myself. That's really the best way I can describe it. I didn't feel happy. I didn't feel the "glow" everyone talks about. I thought if one more person told me how cute, beautiful, or gorgeous I was, I might punch them in the face--not because I didn't agree or want to hear those things, but because the outside didn't match the inside. The inside was ugly. Very ugly. And I couldn't understand why. Again, I just didn't feel like myself. I cried. A lot. About anything (oh I sometimes still do!). And when I didn't cry about it, I felt like crying about it, but I just held it in (don't do this--it just makes things worse). I didn't want to talk to anyone about the pregnancy. I didn't want to talk about my bump or how Ava was doing. I didn't want to answer the question, "How are you feeling" because every time it was asked, I thought I might lose it and burst into tears. It didn't make sense! I was supposed to be happy! I was supposed to be loving life. Everything was supposed to be... perfect.

This picture got over 40 "likes" on instagram.

Do you want to know the truth? Not even 5 minutes after taking this picture, I was sobbing in my bathroom. In fact, I walked in the door after church with tears in my eyes, but remembered I needed to take a bump picture. So, I pushed the tears away for a few minutes, took this selfie and then went into my bathroom and cried. Why, you might ask? Well, that's the thing about being pregnant, you don't have to have a reason. I don't even know why I was crying. I guess I was just tired of not feeling like myself and I was tired of being tired. I just remember thinking about how fake that "smile" was in the picture I just took, which in turn made me cry more!


 Let's take a look at some of my maternity pictures. They look so.... pinteresting, so picture perfect!

 

Don't you agree? This album has over 60 "likes" on Facebook. People have even told me to put these on Pinterest...how fitting :)

The truth? It was a million degrees outside and let's just say Adam and I did some pretending! Smiles that faded seconds after the camera clicked, looks of frustration that disappeared as soon as we were in place for the next picture, yeah I know. I'm sorry that I just busted the bubble of perfection that each picture portrays. It doesn't take away from the beauty of each picture, but he and I (along with Will and Carlie) will always know the truth behind those smiles! Sure, we look back on it even now and laugh at how silly it all was, but the perfection portrayed is simply fake. The happiness (at that exact moment)-fake. The smiles-fake. We did good, right?!

So, here I am with my Oreos. Frustrated because I can't make reality match the picture. So what do I do? What can I do? How can I make things better? Well, sadly, I can't. Adam can't. My mama can't. My friends can't. So, I do the only thing I know that's left to do (sadly, most times, when all else fails) I talk to God about it. I give myself a dose of perspective (then take another dose from a good friend). I remember how much of a blessing this process is and I think about the last month that I've wasted letting emotions, hormones, Satan, or whatever else overcome me and steal my joy. I give all the pieces of my mess to the One who can put them back together. I ask for forgiveness for forgetting about Him during this new season of life. Surely since he was with me through the storm, he wants to be with me on the mountain top, but somehow I had left him behind....not long after reading the word "Pregnant" on that test I took January 18th, I'm sure. It wasn't a deliberate choice. It was more like a slow transition, each day growing further apart.

I swore I wouldn't forget about his goodness and love. I wouldn't stop praising him once we were blessed with a baby. But, at some point, I did.

The truth is I still need Him just as much today, almost 30 weeks pregnant, as I did this time last year when I only dreamt about the day I'd be 30 weeks pregnant.

So, I apologize to everyone for the past couple of weeks. I apologize for portraying something that wasn't truly me.

I got upset about something last night and as tears fell down my face I looked at my phone and thought "Why don't I take a selfie right now and post it to IG with the hashtag 'truelife', 'reality', or something similar?!" And I almost did it.

I'm thankful that He takes my mess of Oreos and turns them into something Pinteresting, something perfect. In Him, I am a new creation. In Him, I have life abundantly.

I've found true joy again, so hopefully my pictures can portray more of a reality. I just forgot where it could be found in the haze of hormones there for a little while. True joy only comes from knowing Jesus. He is always there, even when life isn't Pinteresting!