Adventures in the Toddler Bed (Reagan Edition)

After a year of hitting milestones left and right, I feel like the last few months have just been a whirlwind of new skills for this family. Something I have greatly enjoyed following Reagan's 1st birthday is that I no longer feel tied to a milestone calendar. I breathe a little easier and just follow his lead; granted this means never knowing when or where he is going to take us. Oftentimes, I am so wrapped up in the moment, I don't even notice how big a deal some things are or how quickly he is growing up. This current step has hit me hard though- moving up to a toddler bed. 

*Note* His favorite bear is only ever allowed to sleep in his bed during naptime when I can watch him better.

First, let me just note that the decision to purchase a toddler bed was not an easy one. While I think they are precious, I honestly wasn't sold on the idea of moving forward in that direction. Seeing as we plan to update Reagan's room from nursery to big boy room at the start of next year, Justin and I had anticipated buying his twin bed at that point. Going from crib to bed when he is a bit older (closer to 2 1/2 years old) was our hope. True to form however, our son couldn't care less for our plans. Three weeks ago, after taking him from his crib and tidying the toys from his floor, I turned around to see my son lunging himself back into his crib. It seems he thought his toy chest the perfect tool and his strength just enough to push himself back over the end of the bed. As I left the room to heat up his lunch, I wondered how long it would take him to consider reversing his new skill to escape his crib. The answer- 2 minutes. It took my son all of 2 minutes to desert his toys and try his hand at climbing out. The unfortunate part of course, is that the toy chest and the floor are not as soft and inviting of a landing for toddler missteps. While I would like to say his rough landing and the tears he shed were a lesson learned, I know him better than that. One failed attempt does not deter future attempts. It simply means he made a small miscalculation somewhere. He will always try again, and again, and again...

This is the one we chose. You can find it here on Amazon.

While moving the toy chest did occur to me, Reagan is a tad too persistent for me. Now that he knew he could crawl out, I knew he would just make-do with or without it. Although he is tall for his age, Justin and I didn't feel comfortable moving him to a twin bed just yet. Since we still have the rest of the year to consider, and a toddler bed uses a crib mattress that we shouldn't need for some time yet, we opted to purchase a toddler bed for Little Bit. I was also able to order ours from Amazon in a color that both matches his nursery and his future big boy room. With the order placed, there were only two things left to do- prepare and pray.  Is the room ready? We had already baby-proofed the nursery before Reagan was born, but I did take a second look over the room. I moved a memory box from a low shelf to a safer place in his closet. I double checked all outlets were covered. The cords to all the blinds are still high enough that he cannot reach them, so there was nothing to be done there.  Who are we dealing with? In preparing, Justin and I talked a lot about who our little boy is as a person. Reagan is very independent. He likes to do what we do, and often the way we do it. He also likes routine and stability. Changes in the past haven't been met with too many tears (at least not for too long).  What's the worst that could happen? While Little Bit may be independent and relatively reasonable, he is also a toddler and therefore a person. With a newfound bit of freedom, comes the obvious realization that he may just take advantage of it. We confronted the thought that he may take the ease of getting in and out of his new bed too far and attempt 100 trips out of the bed every 5 minutes. We knew that with the ability to come and go as he pleased, he may attempt to leave his room rather than go to sleep. We knew our late mornings may be coming to an end. We knew we might be receiving some rude awakenings throughout the night either by him standing by our side of the bed staring or exploring in another room. We knew transitioning him from his crib to his toddler was not the only thing we were addressing here. We even knew that there was a slight chance that his claim to his baby bed may be stronger than we realized, and he might reject the toddler bed all together.  How committed are we?  While we were excited to take this new step towards "big boyhood" with our sweet boy, we knew it would be no less a test for Justin and I as his parents. It wasn't just going to be about getting him to accept his new bed by sleeping in it. This would come with the usual tests of our resolve. Would we cave to a week (or perhaps weeks) of poor sleep? Would we let him take water to bed when he never has before? Would we continue closing his door, or would we begin leaving the door open. Leaving the door open allowed us freedom to move about while he slept, and also ensured he would not be leaving his room throughout the night. That said, it also provided him a great deal of privacy; privacy which he might realize could be used to his advantage (aka trouble). Opening his door, meant attempting to be a little more stealth while he sleeps. It meant providing him the ease to move not only in and out of his bed at any given hour, but in and out of rooms. It meant likely sending him to bed repeatedly, and risking a greater mess if he ever decided on a midnight exploration. That said, opening his door meant making our presence more known. It meant the chances of hearing him and seeing him and keeping an eye on his whereabouts might be slightly easier and less dependent on the baby monitor (which only catches so much). At some point, the freedom to come and go from his room would need to be addressed. The question was, was this the right time.  Justin and I realized we had to be fully committed. Like with everything else, we were going to have to take the bad with the good. We had to acknowledge that we could not foresee every scenario, but could only commit to doing what was necessary (whatever the heck that may be). We wanted this big step to be exciting for him and for him to enjoy this new bit of freedom. We also wanted him to understand that the rules had not changed and Mommy and Daddy were still in charge.  While I had big hopes that we would make the switch during the weekend so Justin could loose sleep with me, I remembered a trick from last year. When we began transitioning him from cosleeping in our bed to sleeping in his crib, I decided to introduce him to his crib during naptimes. It seemed kinder to me to let him adjust to sleeping during the daytime for a shorter amount of time in his new space, rather than going all in at night. He complained of course, but he adjusted and it was easier on me to help him adjust during the daytime. Obviously, I wasn't going to have the same timeline as I had before, but he is older now so I hoped I wouldn't need it. I talked the toddler bed up as much as possible. In the four days it took to arrive, Reagan was checking the mail every day with me, and looking at his bed on my computer screen every now and then. Justin put it together the night that it came in, so it was up and waiting in our living room the next morning. I had honestly forgotten until I heard Reagan yell "Bed! My bed!" when he saw it the next day.  After breakfast, I had him help me take apart his crib and move the pieces into the office. Justin and I decided we would be leaving his bedroom door open (might as well rip the bandaid off and get him used to the fact that leaving his room is not an option). That said, we settled on closing the door only so much, leaving it open just enough that we can check in, but not so much that he has every distraction from the rest of the house. With our bathroom right beside his bedroom though, it didn't seem smart to leave his bed in the same spot where it would have full view of the light turning on and off throughout the days and nights. With a little maneuvering, I found a new spot for his new bed. Reagan was ecstatic from what I could tell. He wanted to sit in it immediately, and was more than happy to feel it with his bo-bo's (his stuffed animals). Our usual routine is lunch, diaper change, and nap. I kept the routine the same. 

As with every slumber party we ever went to, it was all fun and games until the lights went out. Still, Reagan did so well. He did leave the room a few times. I wasn't angry or frustrated. I just cheerfully walked him back to his bed, tucked him in, and reiterated what we were doing again. Let's go back to bed. It's time to take your nap. Night, Night. This was his first time, so I didn't want him to be discouraged with the idea that he could do this "wrong" or that the "big boy" bed was harder than his crib. After opening his curtains a bit more, I left the room and he settled in. Two hours later, he woke up happy from his nap. He took his time getting up, walked quietly out of his room, and peeked his head into the living room to tell me hi. I was so proud! That night, we followed the same routine. He did get up about 20 times to tell us hi, check in on us, make sure we were still doing good. You know... what babies do. Each time, Justin and I stayed cheerful and walked him back to bed. Finally, he decided life after he goes to bed didn't seem to be the party he imagined, and stayed in bed. (We saved our usual bowls of cereal for after he went to sleep. ;)) He did wake up in the middle of the night. I could hear him walk into our room, and fully anticipated for him to walk to my side. Funnily enough, he went to Justin. I had no idea until Justin turned to me fully awake and told me that our son was staring at him. I got up and walked to the other side of the bed. Reagan's bottom lip poked out, but I kept smiling and he took my hand knowingly to follow me. I checked his diaper to be sure there hadn't been a mishap to wake him up, and when all was clear I quietly put him back to bed. He even reminded me to pull the door to behind me. I could hear him fighting to get comfortable and hitting his head against the headboard in the process, so I did opt to sneak back in and loan him one of our thinner decorative pillows. (We had a toddler pillow ordered, but it was a day late.) He went straight to sleep, and didn't wake up until Justin's alarm went off the next day. 

"Seriously, Mommy, what do I do again?"

We are on our 2nd week of life in his toddler bed and not much has changed. He does still attempt to get up initially. While the first few days I was sugary-sweet about this, we agreed by the third day he knew full well that he was safe in his new bed and therefore he needed to understand this was not okay. Thanks to our handy dandy baby monitor, I can usually catch him trying to leave the bed before those chunky little feet touch the actual floor. So far I have only had to threaten to shut his door once- a punishment he has made clear is too much for him to dare. We do still walk him back to bed, but only twice. After that, we have learned it is all a power play for him and he just wants to see if he can make us follow. After that second hand-held return, it becomes firm, clear directions to get back in the bed. So far, he has not ventured past his room. He doesn't like the dark, so I am assuming the pitch black rooms beyond his and ours are nothing he cares to venture into. Every time he wakes up- whether it be from his nap or his bedtime, he quietly walks to his door, peeks out into the hall, and looks for us. There is always an uneasy "Hi?" to see if he can get up yet or not. He did initially get up with Justin's alarm, but on the second day Justin told him to go back to bed. He has slept through every alarm since so far. He also woke up too early this past Sunday, but without even seeing me, my whispered instruction to go back to bed sent him quietly walking back out of our room and into his bed for another hour of sleep.  If you follow my Instagram feed or my Snapchat, you know that there have definitely been some humorous moments as well. Usually Justin's office is the one room we keep closed, but this weekend it was open. At some point, he did sneak across the hall and swipe a magazine during naptime. At least, we are assuming. It may have  already been in his room and I just missed it somewhere. Also, because I do not keep an eye on the camera the entire time, he has managed to sneak to his toy basket a few nights and grab his flashlight to take back to bed. Funniest thing EVER! He scared himself with it, and likely thought he was busted the first time he turned it on. With this fear, he actually leaned forward to cover it up the first night.  Justin and I have taken this big step one day at a time. We know at any second he could likely turn the tables on us and throw us a curveball. There is no going back though, so we have to make this work as far as we are concerned. The longer this goes on, the more he proves what we already know- he is ready for this and he can handle this responsibility...with our guidance. We could watch the camera every 10 seconds and we could be a tad more detail-oriented (ex. no flashlights in bed and no sneaking toys to bed). At the end of the day though, the things he takes to bed do not interfere with his sleep. He still knows he has to go to bed and stay in bed until Mommy and Daddy say. If that means playing with a flashlight for 5 minutes, or reading a book for 30 minutes, or rearranging his stuffed animals for 20 minutes, we'll take it. Whether he means to or not, he is settling down for the night and eventually going to sleep.  For now, our routine is a bit changed at night. Now, he helps settle his animals into bed. I adjust the covers while Justin changes his diaper. He crawls into bed and waits eagerly for his bible story. I sit on one side of the bed and Justin the other. We read him a short bible story, hand him his book for the night, say prayers, give him kisses, and leave the room. While we only meant to switch beds, we have actually found new time together as a family as well as begun a bedtime tradition I have been praying for for a long time.  To anyone about to venture into toddler beds or big kid beds, I would just say this: Remember that this is your baby. They need your help to tell them how to do this right, and your encouragement to teach them that they are capable of handling this very big step. Be as prepared as you can be. Be excited. Be patient. Also, don't worry when you realize you still have to be firm. It is all part of teaching them, and they (and you) will be so much happier when they take this big step and run with it like the amazing little person they are. 

Trying for a Season of Joy

I have long since said that I hate spring/summer. I include the two together because every spring I have ever known has been a unified season (aka summer). Just last week, my sister got onto me and began describing spring as one of the most welcoming and endearing of seasons. I am not quite sure where she has known such a spring, as I have only ever known spring as muggy, HOT, and full of storms. Funnily enough though, she seems to have foreseen something as for the last 2 weeks we actually have had some of the most beautiful weather (almost fall like). Because this is not the usual experience however, and because I do not want to waste another season full of excuses for why I lack adventure and enthusiasm, I have decided to proactively find the joy in absolutely every season this year. Hear that, Spring? I am talking to you.

1.My first tool in this venture is this beautiful cookbook that my parents gifted me for my last birthday. Isn't it gorgeous?!?! The recipes are ever so adventurous, while also being light and equally beautiful. One complaint I always have during our hot weather is that my mind goes blank on what to cook. Who wants to suffer the summer heat indoors or out, and then have to come in and cook a hot meal. Yuck! On the other hand, if I am going to put forth extra effort with a new meal, if it looks this pretty and sounds this delicious, it may just be completely worth. (New recipes)

Much prettier in person. Click picture for link!

2. If I am going to experiment with new meals, well, I just may need a new spring/summer table cloth. Maybe some fancier meals at the dinner table will encourage me on the hottest of days to keep up my efforts in an already hot kitchen. Pioneer Woman seems to have been one step ahead of me here. I located this beauty just the other day during my outing with Little Bit. 

3. Enjoy the outdoors more. Hot is hot and in Louisiana there is nowhere that is not. I am going to have to learn to deal. Our home is too nice, and our yard needs too much love to simply stay in the a/c for half the year. Plus, Little Bit thrives outdoors and he would likely live outside if we provided that option. Though that is not about to happen, we really do want to make our yard more enjoyable. One child in the house makes our house seem smaller. The thought of adding more in the future alerts me to the fact that we need a bigger play area for our family. What better time to start putting all of our plans into action than now. I need to post more pictures, but if you have been watching my Instagram feed then you have already seen some of the fun changes we have been making.

4. Find better clothes for the heat. Y'all, I LOVE boots, jeans, bulky sweaters, leggings, and long sleeved button-ups. Oh, and let's not forget a cute coat. None of these are acceptable for spring and summer however. I recently went through my clothes and began clearing the collection. I have made so many efforts to find my "style" over the years and my hot weather wardrobe is just one mad mess. I cleaned out the bulk though and am trying to embrace my new style. Funnily enough, so far I do not resent my "mommy" clothes. I feel like I have a better mental checklist that potential clothing items have to meet. It weeds out a lot of bad buys (or has so far at least). I am pretty conservative when it comes to my clothing. I won't even venture into patterns half of the time. That said, a little bit of color and patterns here and there is just too much to resist these days. If I have to be in the sweltering heat, I want to love my clothes.

5. After such a crazy season, I could so easily fall into a season of rest. Submitting to the heat and hiding from the sunshine are character traits that I have practiced heavily for the majority of my life. Like I said, it is often too hot for me to dream up any real adventure or creativity in any aspect of my life. That isn't fair though- not to me, and not to Justin and Little Bit. When I don't get to do XYZ, I get cranky. When I get cranky, it falls to those around me to be more cheerful or join in the misery. Who wants that?!?!? No, no, that won't do anymore. While I am all over decorating our home, there is so much more I want to try. As a teenager, I dreamed of the day that I would be able to host beautiful dinners, bake fresh breads, and mix new drinks (ex. flavored teas, fresh lemonade, etc.). I am here though. I am right where I need to be to try all of these new things. If I want to venture into gardening, we have the yard and the time to try our hand at it. If I want to grow herbs and try to incorporate them into our meals, I need to do it. If I want to diy cleaners and better manage our home's finances, I can actually do that. No excuses. No more waiting. There is nothing stopping us. Now is the time to venture out and try all of these things. I have every opportunity. Spring might just be the best season to start trying my hand at these new skills that will benefit my home and my family. 

Small indoor project we finished this weekend!

While in some ways all of these plans can make me sound very busy, I really want be. I want to appreciate the season I am in to the very fullest. I don't want to lose anymore time & become so lost in future plans (fall, birthday party, big boy room, etc.) that I miss out on the opportunities I have everyday. I want to give Reagan the fun memories that I had when I was little, along with some new memories I come up with all on my own. I want to enjoy rainy days, and soak up sunshine at home. I want to take it up a notch in the kitchen, and find more reason to smile. I want to be grateful and find the joy God is giving me in the every day- especially when it isn't easy. 

Look how cute!!!

Anyone else finding warmer weather is a hindrance? Anyone have any fun plans or advice? 

Let Me Eat Cake!

Before having Reagan, I never kept track of my weight. I ate to enjoy the food in front of me. Isn't that what a meal is for? It was not a concern on my radar, and I actually hated when the topic was brought up at work. So many women I knew and respected seemed to belittle their self worth all because of a number on the scale. I swore I would never talk like that. 

During my pregnancy, I gained a total of 70 lbs. Now I am fully aware that that is twice as much as all the books say is allowable for someone my height and with my starting weight. That said, I was not concerned and neither was my doctor. Let's also note for a moment, I was a pregnant woman in the south, due in one of the hottest, most humid months of the year. Avoiding carrying around excess fluid just isn't going to happen. I carried my extra weight with pride until about month 7. When I saw the pictures of me at my baby shower...there were just no words. After that I didn't want pictures taken of me except for the last two monthly bump pictures and the necessary hospital pictures (in all that beautiful hospital garb). I nit-picked everything about myself for the rest of my pregnancy. 

Post-pregnancy was no better. Throw in the fact that I had joined a mommy board online where just about every woman on there was either (a) complaining about their weight & asking when it would disappear, or (b) celebrating their swift return to their pre-pregnancy scale numbers. It was not a good atmosphere. I had had every intention of dropping the concerns about my weight as soon as I held our sweet boy, but that didn't happen. No matter how hard I tried not to think about it, I inevitably would scoop up my phone and spend a few minutes researching normal postpartum weight limits. Of course the weight did eventually start to dissipate some, and of course I was celebrating as it all "magically" seemed to take the hint that I didn't want it there anymore. Then it stopped. It stopped far from the number I wanted it at. Let's also stop and remember for a minute that I am someone's wife. Justin is really great. Like really, really great, y'all. He never cringed, never fussed, never became bossy about any of my weight or what I was eating. He never even mentioned it unless I did. Of course stupid me mentioned it all of the time. I complained and thought aloud and sought desperately for him to say some formula of perfect words that would make all my doubts about my weight vanish. I put all of the pressure on him. The problem with that (at least one problem) is that there are no perfect words. It was all a me thing. So many times he would tell me again and again that he loved me, he loved some new curve that I was complaining about, that I was worrying over nothing. that everything was all good. For just a minute, maybe even a full day if I really let it, his assurances would work and I would completely stop worrying about the numbers on the scale and the girl in the mirror. I would look with clear eyes on the body I actually had and be grateful in every possible way for what was. Doubt can be the murderer of all joy though. It would even stoop so low as to make me question my husband's love. Oh, I knew he loved me, but I worried because love is so amazing at being love that maybe Justin only did and said what he did to make me happy. What if deep down he struggled with other thoughts- not so nice, but honest thoughts. Was my joy and comfort in my new body complacency and selfishness where a husband might be concerned? Yeah, doubt is the ultimate funsucker. (That's a word. Just watch Freaky Friday.) I finally decided to give dieting a try. In September Justin and I decided to try Whole 30. For anyone who has not heard of it, or is just thinking about it, it is interesting. You don't measure your food. You don't count calories. You don't weigh yourself (unless you are like me & need proof you efforts are working). You can supposedly do it while nursing or pregnant, though I was too concerned about risking lack of breastmilk with such sudden changes that I waited until Reagan was weaned. You can actually eat a lot of food- good food. It is a no sugar, no beans, no corn, no bread, no milk, no lots of little names of things (that I cannot recall, but are in the book) diet. You are told not to remake a recipe of something that you shouldn't have, meaning no flourless muffin recipes even though it has all diet-approved ingredients. There are also no cheat days. The diet as a whole is supposed to help you hit a reset button with your body. It is supposed to help you become more aware of any possible sensitivities you may have & not know of, which should help you feel less tired & more energetic, and feel better overall, and possibly get rid of some health issues you may be dealing with or may be heading towards unknowingly. It is also supposed to help reset your brain by helping you form better eating habits, and avoiding snacking or eating foods that make you feel bad (or at least eating less of them). I mean, it sounds pretty legit, right? Justin was on board. I not only wanted to lose some baby weight (though it specifically & repeatedly says that weight loss should not be a focus), but my immune system was crap at this point and I was always exhausted. 

I am not going to go into every detail because I do have another point with all of this. I will say though that our Whole 30 ended up being more of a Whole 23. When Justin ended up in the hospital, we threw the diet out the window. *Note- This diet had absolutely NOTHING to do with his afib episode. In fact, the night that it happened we had eaten an extremely heart healthy meal.* When we stopped the Whole 30, I fell back into my uncertainty. I did lose a few pounds, but that had been with diet-approved meals. I tried to keep up some habits without stressing too much. I kept drinking black coffee, and I still avoided a lot of my favorite treats. When I did snack, I always felt bad afterwards. I would beat myself up for having indulged, and then beat myself up for complaining about the pounds that came back. I pinned so many exercise plans on Pinterest that you would have thought I was preparing for a fitness competition. Truthfully, I would start one exercise regiment, be unable to complete most of the exercises, and then feel so physically sick that I could barely pull myself back together. You won't be surprised to know that I wouldn't try that exercise plan again.

In January, I finally called it. Living life this way just could not be right. I hopped off my tumultuous hamster wheel and began to replay the last few months. For all the things that I had not liked about the Whole 30, it had helped me realize a few things. First, I love to cook. Like for real, I LOVE to cook. Because I love to cook though, I hate to cook something that isn't enjoyable. If not to satisfy the bellies of those I love and their tastebuds, why on earth should I spend precious time in the kitchen? It just doesn't make sense. Also, prepping meals ahead of time is amazing, but it also shouldn't take all day. Prepping should help cut back on time, not eat up more time that I already don't have. I also realized when I want something, I need to have it. I was eating empty weight that I didn't even enjoy trying to kill a craving that I didn't have time or didn't want to make time to cook myself. (Ex. 1/3 bag of Jelly Belly Skittles, 5 peanut M&Ms, and 3 handfuls of goldfish do not equal one slice of chocolate cake, nor is a free Johnny's pizza an amazingly delicious Pizza Hut pizza.) As for the exercise, I haven't exercised regularly for anything since my senior year in high school when I was on the volley ball team. That statement in itself is filled with so much irony you just could not wrap your head around it. Taking all of this into account, I sat down with Justin one night and told him what was up. To say he was a little surprised would be an understatement. Apparently, in all of my stressing and feeding into my doubts, I had thought my husband understood my weight and new body image weighed heavily on me. Nope, he had no idea. He thought I had taken him at his word and that I truly hadn't thought too much of it. *Que laughing until I cried.* So, all of that to say, here is what I have changed in the Mommy Body department- 1. "Whatever you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God."- 1 Corinthians 10:31 This verse alone tells us we are to consider everything big AND small to be work and acts that glorify our Father who places us in the positions in life that we are in. I am a wife and a mother who, above all other work I could submit myself to, I WANT to serve my loved ones to the absolute best of my ability. For me, this means I cook for pleasure. The time I spend in the kitchen needs to serve a greater purpose than bettering my body's image to the standards others around me have set. Each and every meal that comes from my kitchen, from the work of my hands, should both satisfy and strengthen the precious bodies my family and I have been given, as well as satisfy the taste buds specifically created for us.  2. Exercising doesn't work if I cannot do it. Around the middle of January, I created my own workout plan. I took 3 exercises that I could actually perform and that motivated me and did them no more than 25 times each. I was tired after the first time, but not physically sick. It took me less than 30 minutes (Reagan's mealtime), and I could go about my day afterwards. I had no real clue if my exercising was actually doing anything, but it was fun so I didn't consider it wasted time. Feeling pretty proud of myself, I added 2 new exercises about 2 weeks later. After a month, I doubled the amount of time that I did each exercise. Again, it tired me out, but I wasn't sick. I could chase Reagan down 5 seconds after I was finished unlike before. The fact I can actually do some exercises is pretty exciting. It makes my clutzy-self feel good. Plus, it doesn't take but a few minutes, so I am not having to rearrange my schedule for any of this. With all of the recent diy projects Justin and I have been doing around the house, I don't even stress if I miss a day. I am keeping my body busy and being productive!   3. Something I did learn about myself while doing the Whole 30 is that I can actually say no. Also, I learned that I don't like eating food that I don't like or that I don't want. (Hence why the Whole 30 cookbook no longer sits on my kitchen counter. At $17 though, it does sit on a shelf in our house still.) I don't eat every snickers that is offered to me now, and I don't feel the urge to devour a bag of Reeses Easter eggs just because they are in the house. They aren't going to vanish off the face of the earth if I say no this one time. When I actually want them and eat them, I eat less of them and I fully appreciate their amazingness. If I gain 5 pounds from them, it was so worth it because I won't want them for awhile, so I won't hang on to what I gained for a few days. No stressing myself out. No beating myself up. It's a treat. It's amazing. It should be enjoyed fully. 4. I drink more water. If my mother reads this post she may just fall out from shock. Thanks to one of my grandmothers, I have been drinking coke since before I turned 1. (No, my parents did not condone this.) Cokes were treats in my parents home. You got one if you were eating out and not wearing a super nice, super new outfit. As a teenager with a job and then as an adult in her own home, I began drinking cokes like they were going out with Twinkies. I was grown. I considered it my right to keep a pack of cokes in my home. Then there was Whole 30, and no cokes were allowed, and I was sad. Then there was no Whole 30, and I could drink all I wanted, but I didn't want them all the time anymore. When I want one, I want one. It may be Reagan's bedtime, but if we don't have one in the house somebody is driving me to Sonic for that coke. Funnily enough, Justin now craves them so there is always a pack in the house now. I haven't had one in months. I drink water. I crave food more than I do my flavored drinks. It is really weird, I admit. I mean, maybe you would have to know me. Now, I do not drink black coffee anymore. That just is so wrong. Plus, it was messing with my head terribly. I add cream, but I hardly ever want sugar. It just goes back to the fact that if I am going to make something or consume something it better be the way I want it.  The changes I have made may look common sense to some, but they are changes I have never thought to make before. I enjoy being in our kitchen. I enjoy what I eat no matter whether it is considered healthy or not. I exercise so that I know I can, not in order to make myself look a way that I may never look again. Yes, I have come down a bit on the scale since making these changes, but it has been nothing drastic. Many would still say that I am overweight, and some might say that I am being complacent and should be more concerned. The truth is though. I am concerned. I am concerned with what matters in my life as a whole. Cooking for my family serves my family. It is a good work to do and it respects my Father who has given me the opportunity to do this work. The little exercises I do are for me and me alone. They are nothing to brag on, but they sure do make me feel good just because I know I can do them.  I have scars. I have stretch marks. I am struggling to find what my new size is now. Even in all of this though, I can honestly, without a shadow of a doubt say that I love my body. No, not because I am vain or selfish, but because I am grateful. It is scarred and forever changed not because of some selfish act to better it by the world's standards, but because it has done a great work. A most impressive, and most beautiful little boy grew here and came from it. God used my body for His work. Our son has a purpose on earth and that I could have been used to help bring him here is just absolutely a most humbling thought. So what I can't wear a lot of the same clothes. I can still move. I can still walk and chase and run and play and do works with this body that honestly sat idle for so long. So what that I do not look the same as I once did. I am not the same woman I once was, and I would not trade a single day of my life now to go back to where and who I was before. I have to use my time and my energy for what I believe is important, just as we all do. I cannot focus on the bigger picture and God's purpose for my life while staring at the scale and measuring out meals and sticking to a "fool-proof" exercise regiment. That just isn't me, and isn't that the truth that we just cannot be happy trying to be anyone else than who God wants us to be. Yes, I have a bigger butt and bigger thighs and even a bigger chest than I did before. Oh, and of course lets not forget that little bump that is leftover. So I wear bigger jeans, and I went up a bra size (not crying over that one), and I have always worn high-waisted bottoms anyway. As for the bigger curves, I will just acknowledge that I fill out my outfits better now. 

Being a mommy, having a baby, it isn't about getting a great body- or a "healthy body" is how some sell it. The second you get pregnant, you are not you anymore. You are literally and figuratively changing. Your heart is no longer the same. Your life will never be the same. How on earth can your body be unscathed, and how can it be worse off because it doesn't magically look as it did (or better than it did) before. It has done a great and amazing thing. Beating myself up about how my body didn't look, depleted so much of my energy- more than our newborn ever could have. I lost appreciation for God's work. I lost appreciation for God's favor in my life. He chose to allow me to be a mother in every way. I let distraction take away what was and is mine to enjoy. I questioned my husband's affection and honesty because of the doubt and the standards the world put in front of me. I lost my focus, and was not fulfilling my purpose.

I'll end this with this final thought. My mom managed to find a few surviving family photos on Ancestry of her grandmother (her namesake). I have no clue how much my great-grandmother weighed. What little anyone could ever remember to tell us about her didn't include mention of her hard workout regiment or teeny waistline. Instead, it was of how hard she served her family. She was known to be fiscally responsible, incredibly smart, faithful to her husband, and a very loving mother. She died when she was fairly young. Because of the memories she left, when I look at those pictures I see a woman with a beautiful smile and genuinely kind eyes. I am sure she was not perfect. She was real after all. Still, for the little stories we do know to be as good and as favorable as they are is telling of what she cared about most. We only have so much time to do the work we are here for- to serve where we are and with the fullest and happiest of hearts. To anyone out there reading this, do not worry over the thoughts of the world. Focus on what matters- what your purpose is. Put your heart there and do the great works God has planned for you. 

(Oh, and if chocolate cake makes you happy then by golly go bake you the most delicious chocolate cake recipe you can find and enjoy!) :)

Loving the Life I Have

I had found myself in a slump. While we were celebrating our sweet boy's first birthday, I was already looking for what was next. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn't know what that was. What was I supposed to do? A year of milestones had come and gone. Monthly pictures were no longer necessary. Potty-training, big boy bedroom, 2nd birthday plans were all at least a year away. Christmas gifts were bought. Our first family vacation was booked. Everything told me to breathe, to relax, to enjoy the moments little by little finally. In actuality, I felt the complete opposite. I was restless. What was next? I felt like I had missed something- like I was still missing something.  It didn't take long for my dissatisfaction to effect every other aspect of my life. Frustration with my own short-comings were beginning to preoccupy my mind. My temper grew shorter as toddler-tantrums began to spring up. Leftover baby weight seemed to multiple with every glance in the mirror. Our home needed more, but nothing we bought seemed to fit or to be enough. The lies began to build in my mind. I wasn't working hard enough. I wasn't patient enough. I wasn't fun enough. I wasn't a good enough Christian. I wasn't physically active enough. I didn't care enough. I wasn't organized enough. I wasn't...I wasn't...I wasn't...   The list continued to go on and on. My disappointment with myself began to effect how I treated my husband. After a long day at work, Justin often came home to hear my complaints and doubts. When he couldn't or wouldn't confirm my feelings, I turned to nit-picking his habits and my perceived shortcomings. How could he not question his efforts? Didn't he care? Of course he did. Unlike me though, he wasn't making list or rating himself against other men, other daddies. He was living. He was going and doing each day what was necessary, and loving the entire time. I envied how easily he seemed to be able to manage it all. I had planned and dreamed of this life for my entire life, and yet here I was feeling like I was failing. Why? I hated the things I would say. I regretted the words so quickly that I would oftentimes apologize as soon as I had said them. What I didn't say still plagued me and took my attention, making me distant. I told myself that if I could just sort my thoughts out though, that would fix everything. I knew to pray, but even my prayers felt half-hearted. The fear of God's answer, of his clarification, scared me almost as much as not knowing just what it was that was missing.  The funny thing about prayers is this though, even if we think that it is half-hearted, our Father knows our whole heart. He knows the deepest parts of it. While I thought my fear nearly out weighed my desire for help, God knew my heart's desire was stronger than my fear could ever be. He knew because He put those desires there Himself long before I even knew they were there. I had wanted to be a good wife and mother for as long as I could remember. I had planned and prayed and cried just waiting for my chance at this life I have now. No amount of planning and dreaming though had prepared me for actually being in these roles. While it is easy to check off the big moments (wedding day, that first positive pregnancy test, the day you deliver your baby, monthly milestones, first birthday party, etc.), it is a lot more difficult, and far more important, to actually live all of the days in between and all of the days to follow. Those are the moments of complete possibility- moments where you shine, you fall, you learn, you pray, you thrive as the person God wants you to be. It was something I hadn't realized in my time of waiting, and then of running to keep up with my big plans. I had missed how big God's plans for me were. Thankfully though, He knew I would. He knew I would fall. He knew I would come to Him for help, and He knew just what to do. Late in September, Justin was diagnosed with afib. They said it is pretty rare for someone his age to have it. Knowing what we know now about the symptoms and the effects they had on him, Justin thinks he had been dealing with it for easily ten years. At first, I thought I was prepared to handle the situation. I made new lists, canceled our big vacation, made arrangements for Reagan to stay with family while Justin had his procedure to correct it. While we weren't happy Justin was sick, we were glad of answers. The quick procedure to correct it was canceled though. We were given new questions, with answers that took months to confirm. The initial calm and readiness of being there for my family weakened. All of the what-ifs- the ones I had never thought I would have to fear- hit, and they hit hard. My husband's worries were unsatisfied by my assurances that everything would be okay. Even I worried I was wrong. My husband, my best friend, was scared and I wasn't enough to comfort him. On top of all of that, for the first time in months I could see how little my focus had been on my loved ones, and how much it had been on myself.  "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perserveres."                                                                       - 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 I wish I could say that I know this verse by heart. I've honestly read it enough that I should. We have at least two wedding gifts that state (in decorative form of course) probably half of those words. Nevertheless, who doesn't know at least the first sentence. When you are deep in thought about your convictions, questioning just how you have loved- if you have truly loved as God tells us to- you know the answer. After months of noise and crowded thoughts, I found silence in my head. No matter what was going on around me, the desires of my heart, the thoughts in my brain were falling into place. I realized what it was that I had been missing. I had not been loving fully.  Yes, I am a wife and mother. I am an essential part of my family. How I act- how I love, to be more specific- sets the tone for my family. Wrapped up in my own thoughts, making to-do lists full of things that do not matter, allowing doubts and lies to build up distracts from my real purpose in my family and it breaks it apart. It doesn't matter if I buy nice things, if they serve no purpose in our home. It doesn't matter if we plan a big vacation of exciting adventures, if we are only carrying unsettled issues along with us. It doesn't matter how many anniversaries and dates we make time for, if Justin and I are not communicating and working as a husband and wife every day. It doesn't matter if I log every milestone, take every picture, design every party if I am not loving in every other way to my sweet boy. It doesn't matter how many Grey's Anatomy episodes I watch or how many cups of coffee I sneak in if I am not finding true rest. It is doesn't matter which diet I choose or which exercise regiment I find if I am not being appreciative of the body God has given me and the work it has done all of the time.  Signing the marriage license, delivering a baby- these are moments. They are big moments, but they are truly just the starting lines. They alone do not make us good wives and mothers. Being a good wife and a good mother is being a loving one. This means being intentional.  Justin's health scare was the answer to a lot of questions. Obviously, it helped Justin with long-lingering health issues that he had. For me though, God used this time for His purpose. Our Father knows I am as hard-headed as I am selectively deaf and blind. If you want to convince me of something, you better be loud and you better have a heck of a case. When Justin was sick, I was quickly reminded how much I love him and how important he is to me. I felt the depth of importance my family has in my life. I saw how important my role is in their lives, and how much I had been failing them. All of the distractions I had allowed to take priority of my time, all of the energy I had given them, I saw clearly for the first time.  I do not ever want my loved ones to wonder if they were loved. I want my every word and action to be full of love. I want to be joyful in the work I have been given and intentional with my time. I don't want to spend our time together nit-picking my husband. I don't want to mark Reagan's toddler days as a bad era when every day (even the most trying) is filled with moments of sweetness and innocence that we will never have again. I don't want to be so consumed with how my body may look, that I miss all the productive and joyful work God has planned for it to do.   Our life is supposed to be one of purpose. Before, I wasn't fully loving, meaning I wasn't fully living. I allowed the distractions to become my focus, and I tried to solve the problem alone. Thankfully, God heard my prayers. One time, one hard period in life, opened my eyes and has helped me regain my focus and my drive.  I have made some changes in the last few months. They have been changes that have filled our home and our hearts with more joy. I am going to try to share some of the changes I am making, and the impact it is having, later. For now though, I am off to eat with my boys. Happy Weekend!

Season of Thankfulness

Obviously not me, but how pretty is this picture!

Am I the only one who feels like Thanksgiving has just ran up and surprised them? I swear that I was just wearing shorts and t-shirt last week, and now I am bundled in a sweater. Oh wait....that last part is true. Got to love fall in the south. No matter the weather, I am so ready for what is my second favorite holiday. Now don't laugh, but this is how I view this time of year. Remember playing Candyland when you were little? There was the really cute lollipop girl that was so bright and colorful that I just loved landed on her little house. Then there was the pretty ice princess character just past her. Win or loose- to land on her castle meant a good game for me. Those two characters are how I view Thanksgiving and Christmas. Thanksgiving is cheerful and exciting- lollipop girl. Christmas just cannot be beat though- ice princess. Like I said, please don't think I am crazy. I am just....nostalgic. :) Anyway, with Little Bit here now I am even more crazy for this time of year than before. Technically our first Thanksgiving was last year, but this year he will be so much more present that it just feels like a first. For most of my life, I have enjoyed the quiet Thanksgiving dinners in my parents home with only the 5 of us. Now that Justin and I are married though, we have his grandparents' house to visit as well. Both dinners are similar, but both matriarchs of the families cook completely different. You can't be tired of the Thanksgiving dinners because they are so unalike, and yet you get stuffed at both places. It is wonderful! Back to where I intended to go with this post though... There is so much I have to be thankful for this year. Of course it is the same for every year, but this year it feels especially so. This year has been perhaps one of the most trying that I can remember. There has been so much to celebrate; so many little first with Reagan, but also so much that has attempted to take away from that. I feel as though I have grown so much more within such a short time. I use to mark my growth by my rank at my job or my marital status. (No, definitely not a good idea.) This year though, as I sit here typing with a grateful heart, I can think of only how much we have overcome so far and how very much my heart has to be grateful for. In honor of our wonderful Thanksgiving holiday, I feel like sharing some of what I am most grateful for this year with you.  1. My husband- He may not always feel like it, or even see it yet, but he has become my rock. I have never been so dependent or so trusting of another person (outside of my family of course) as I have him. If I am having an off day and just can't pull it together, he notices. Better yet, he steps in to lift some of the weight so that I can pull myself together and get things back in order. When I have suddenly been sick (down and out a few times this year, y'all), he never complains about the poor timing or the struggle of caring for Reagan without help. He has hauled Reagan in his sleeper to more than one store in search of medicine for me and groceries to keep us going until I am back at work. He has even put his "husband foot" down a few times and made me rest or eat when I simply don't feel like I can. He has put his own bad days aside to hear out mine on occasion, and given me a few extra minutes of calm and attention when necessary even when we have a hundred other things to do. He has tried new projects (like putting up a faux wood wall) even when he knows we are little equipped with skill to do such a thing. Even better, when the project fails in the first few minutes and my frustration starts pouring out over the clock, he becomes the most positive go-getter I could ever find. He has paced with me through the house when troubling situations have come up, and he has supported me in every solution we have come up with. He has loved on our baby boy in such a way that my heart feels it might explode sometimes with all the love those two have for one another, and he has worked harder for us than I ever could have expected my husband to one day. Troubles have come, and they try so often to chip away at my safe place. They lie, as all troubles do, and tell him that he is not enough, that he is not strong, that he is not equipped. It brings me to tears every time. It also makes me more determined to fight for him, as he fights for me. I know God is working in him even when he doesn't see it; and you don't accept such a gift only to watch someone try to tear it apart. I am so grateful that I have the privilege of being his wife, and I pray that when we are old and grey that he can think of how much I have always loved him just as I will be thinking of how much he has loved me.  2. Reagan- Just when I think my heart is full to the brim, God pours in a little more love every day. Our angel baby is our most prized gift. Little Bit, if one day you read this, I pray you be reminded of just how long Mommy and Daddy have said you were gifted. You are surely beautiful with your red hair and blue eyes. Oh, and that smile is too much for any one of us. Still, sweet boy, your spirit brings Mommy and Daddy such joy. You have grown so quickly, and for all we may have tried to teach you, you exceed our teachings simply by showing us your own interest to learn. You watch without us knowing, and you listen without us realizing. You have already come to see the importance of helping and working- though that was something we were planning to hold out on for a couple more years. You have a fire in you, Little Bit. Good gracious, is it ever such a fire. You challenge us so much these days. While I so often express my surprise and frustration at your determination to do so, thinking alone I can admit it doesn't truly surprise me. When you do learn, and you always do, that your way is not always the best way, you take it to memory. When you see Mommy and Daddy are disappointed (which typically takes a standoff of sorts where you meet our eyes finally), you are so quick to drop the matter. Your entire face slowly softens, and you wave at us and say "Hi-d" in your calmest voice. Then you give us kisses and go on about your way. When you play too rough or accidentally move too quickly and fall on one of us, you stop instantly to give kisses and say only what we can assume is your 1 year old version of "Sorry". Sometimes you let your temper burn too bright, but you are having to learn (as everyone must) to brush it out as quickly as you see it. You are learning, and you will continue to learn no doubt, that your fight is not always worth it. My angel baby, I know you will one day fight for the right things though. Your heart is sweet and you want so much to learn, that I do not doubt you will learn the difference between good and bad soon enough and that you will take it to heart as you do everything else. Somehow, and I will never surely know how, you seem to always know when Mommy and Daddy are struggling on certain days. On those days, you play a little quieter, you give even more kisses, and you snuggle with us a little longer. Even when our world seems like it is crumbling at times, you bring Mommy and Daddy back to the promise in our lives. We love you so much, sweet boy. God has given us so much hope in this life, and so much of it seems already wrapped up in you. We know He has great things in store for you, Angel- so many, many great things for you. We pray you always see them, and that you always seek Him and His will for your life. You have truly been our angel baby and you always will be, Little Bit.  3. Family- I come from a very small family. Sure, plenty of extended family, but the only sure thing I have been able to count on in this world is my little family in which I have made 5- my daddy, my mother, my sister, and my brother. In that little family there has been so much hope and promise. Surely as I have seen it happen to Justin, trouble has always tried to chip away at these people that I love and care about the most. Nevertheless they pull through. My parents always told us that our family could not have worked if one of us was missing- they saw our purpose in it everyday (even when we had to have been the biggest pain in the butts some days (I should know, I had a spell there where I know I was)). It is so true. My sister is crazy, y'all. Okay, so that is what she will tell you. She is actually the most big-hearted person I will ever know. She would give her coat to her worst enemy if she even thought they were chilly. She hides it with fluent sarcasm, and boy will she have you dying with laughter. She is quick-witted, and even when she is afraid, she moves through life like nothing ever scares her. She does not like for anyone to be left out. Doesn't matter if she agrees with someone or not. She just says what she really thinks- like it or not- and attempts friendship just the same. For all the talk she has done, she really hates to be mean or be thought of as such (but people really shouldn't take advantage, because she has a temper). I admire her so much and often wish I were more like her.  My brother is a mixture. We definitely get along better now. Although older now I think I see where we probably always got along just fine. We have butted heads more often than my sister and I (and I have known her 5 years longer). The thing is, we have such high standards for each other. My sister is in on that too, but she will be silent rather than fight it out for long. My brother and I have gone to war over the stupidest things- heck, I don't even think he knows all the fights we have had anymore. Late night talks became our thing though. I honestly respect my brother. The fact he is younger doesn't matter. I cannot stand most teenagers, but it doesn't help that I compare them to him. My brother has always watched, always learned, always been kind-hearted...though sometimes more firey. He is so much like our daddy that I have to laugh sometimes. True story, y'all. They have the same mannerisms, same smile when they don't agree with someone, same voice. He is the most adorable thing ever in his new work uniform, with his cool composure. He tries to act so cool (albeit he is pretty cool), but he is such a sweetheart. He never quite pushes it with his joking and teasing because he never wants to hurt feelings. He always sends an encouraging text when he feels I am overwhelmed, or gives me an extra tight hug to remind me he is there for me. Y'all, my brother is the ultimate sweetheart. He gives me such hope every day that good men are still growing in our country.  If I had to choose the one woman I look up to the most, I would say without question that it is my mother. She is the strongest woman I know. She is also the most sincere. She is so gentle and kind, yet she moves through obstacles with the most unstoppable grace. I will always think my mother is beautiful, and not just because of her outward appearance. She is the most beautiful woman I will ever know because I have known her heart. I have rarely seen my mother cry, and when she has it always seems like such a blink of a moment. If she didn't tell me from time to time, I honestly don't think I would ever have known my mother to be afraid of anything. She never lets it stop her. The fact she has been so open and honest with me my whole life, makes me realize and respect just how strong she actually is. Her life has not been an easy one, but she is so full of joy. I will always want her hugs and kisses. I will always crave that warm home she has made- her personal touch to detail everywhere, and spicy scented candles filling every room. She has taught me how to make home anywhere; how to make the spaces we occupy truly beautiful (and not to worry over the latest trends). She has taught me that strength and beauty rest inside of a woman. She has even taught me to save the fire we have for the moments when we will need them most. I value my family so much, and my place within it, because she raised me everyday to respect the position of wife and mother no matter where life will take me. She does not judge me when I am weak, or when I make a mistake. She has been my teacher, and still sets the example I strive for. She listens to me just as she always has, and she encourages me to believe that it is always possible to do better and grow more. She loves on my baby, but never ever oversteps or overrides me as his mother. It is a simple thing to be sure, but funnily enough not common in our families. She has taught me sometimes it is more important, and more rewarding to humble myself, and not fight with those I love, and she has taught me to always fight for those we love and what we care about. I hope I can set the same example for my children that she has set for me.  My daddy is (sorry girls)- my daddy is the best. He will never say it. He will never believe it, but he is y'all. He set the bar high. He was the first man to love me. He was the first man to tell me that I am special and worth far more than what this world will ever value me at. His disappointment in me at times was more crushing and heart-reaching (yes, heart reaching) than his anger could ever have been. He never told me I was strong because I am a girl, but he always believed I was strong because I was me- special, one-of-a-kind, handmade by God me. I have fought him tooth and nail much of my life about how weak I have felt and how unprepared I have been. He NEVER let up- not one stinking time. He has pushed me to my breaking point, and smiled knowingly as I surprised myself (but not him) with how I pulled myself back up. Though he never got into the romantic dreams of my heart (meeting my husband one day/boyfriends/crushes), he sure replaced my faith in the future plans God had for me when I would let it fall. So many, many, MANY times I have heard his voice in difficult times. He has been my silent strength. He has given me warnings, let me fall when I ignored said warnings. and held my hand as I get back up each time. He is so quiet, but so passionate about what he believes in. Goodness, do not get him wound up. He may not be a man of many words, but he sure does make each one count. When he speaks, you do not forget the meaning or the feelings behind them. He has already been everything and more that he promised to be as a grandfather. I cannot imagine our angel baby without his Pops and Juju.  I have had the privilege of watching my parents grow together for most of their marriage. Yes, I missed a few years, but what I have seen has often left me in awe. I have watched plans become reality, and hard work pay off. I have watched value decrease in worldly matters, and the value in family skyrocket. I have learned to always keep advancing, and never let a moment of weakness become a lifestyle. I have watched the family they have built gather around the family I am now being allowed to build. I am reminded every day how blessed I am to be a part of the family I am in- whether in good times or bad.  Justin's grandparents raised him. They stepped in and took the reigns when no one else would. They have loved him his entire life. They have been there for him before I ever could. They have listened when we have had trouble with other members of his family, and they have encouraged us to stay strong. They have even stood by us a time or two. They are the closest family Justin has on his side. When Justin was in the hospital a few months ago, they quickly changed their schedule to watch Reagan for us. It was a decision that was not easy for us. Though we worried about their age and keeping up with a one year old, they never once complained and truly helped us out those 2 days. Reagan was loved on and spoiled rotten by the time I got him each afternoon. It was certainly one bit of worry we didn't have to have. 4. Friends- Justin and I haven't many friends. We mostly keep to ourselves. We have several acquaintances, though mine have dwindled with time. Friends are something so sweet and so intimate though that we consider very few as such. Through all this trouble we have been dealt lately, I have been reminded how humbling it is to have such sweet spirits to call on in times like these for extra prayers. Sometimes in worrying, I haven't prayed as I should. Sometimes in worrying I haven't been able to be as strong as I'd like. Our sweet people have rallied with us though- encouraged us, prayed for us and our families, and reminded me that there is most certainly a light at the end of the tunnel. If they are reading this, they know who they are. Their thoughts and prayers have not been wasted on us, and we will forever be grateful for the love they have shown us. From encouraging verses from their morning devotions forwarded our way, to texts just to check-in and let us know they remember us...it has all been so very much appreciated. They have greatly reminded us how blessed we are to know each of them and to have them in our lives.  5. Good people- Y'all, I am not going to lie. I am not a people person. When I worked with people, I often said that people were what made my job ridiculously hard. I am not into buttheads, jerks...entitled attitudes basically. Having a paycheck held over your head and being reminded of what would happen if I straightened a few common facts out with such people made it all the more difficult to handle. I am still finding that there is always something to loose when dealing with such people, so I have to weigh my options carefully. While Justin's doctor may be skilled (and he better be), if he were not the only one in the area who could do what Justin's needs done, we would most likely have walked out by now. I have never been put off for so long, especially not by someone who is supposed to care for you. The waiting has been the absolute worst part of this whole chapter in our life. That said, we have met some really good people- "common decency" people. We may meet them at random, but I can tell you that as of right now each one's face is etched in my brain. They have surpassed fake smiles and telling Reagan hi in a quiet waiting room. I am talking about the people who have looked at us and treated us as people- real, live, human beings- be our meeting ever so brief. Nurses who have thought to bring me a meal with Justin's because they see and know that I would sooner risk getting sick myself than leave his side. Strangers who have seen we are lost in the hospital and stop to offer help and walk us in the correct direction while making conversation. Nurses who have actually cared for the most important man in my and my son's life- not just popped in an iv and checked in once every few hours. People who have seen through our strong attitudes to our heart's fears and worries. It is sad, but common decency is not so common anymore. These people though, these random angels, have reminded us that it is still very much alive nonetheless. Their example is stirring a stronger desire in myself to remember that we each have purpose in other's lives. It is not simply to preach, but to live by example- to love on one another and show true, honest, unabashed kindness.  6. Faith- I have called myself a Christian since I was 10. I never really questioned it. I know what I know, and that has seemed good enough. God is good. Satan is bad. Jesus has saved me. I am ashamed to say I have taken those facts for granted for awhile now. After all of this, I am no longer just saying any of this. God is good. He is all-powerful. He does not loose. He does not make mistakes. He does not forget us. He does not leave us. Satan is the most horrible being there is. He is manipulative and by far the best liar there is or will ever be. He knows my weaknesses and plays on them relentlessly. Jesus has saved me. He has given His all, and continues to love on me in spite of my shortcomings. His gentleness, His grace, has warmed me inside and out on the worst days. When I have run out of strength, I find security and strength in Him. If not for my faith, the future would be horribly uncertain and life would be overwhelming. I could not do life without it. I could not survive on worldly promises and dreamy plans. All of that is man-made and flawed. It will inevitably fall through, and I would be left with nothing. Though my plans do not always come out the way I want, God's plan is detailed and perfect. Trusting it is sometimes hard because I have a bit of a control issue. He knows this though. He knows it because He created me. He knows my weaknesses, and always sees me through nonetheless. The love and comfort I find in Him is humbling and wonderful and, well, just overall AWESOME.  Justin and I have been dealt some hardships. Everyone has and it will continue as such for a time. It is hard. It is hard to deal with the hardship itself. It is hard to deal with the unfairness of it all. It is hard to find the joy when all you really want to do is cry out in frustration. Truthfully, I have been angry. The angry you read about of the men in the bible, and then think to yourself how stupid they were and how you will NEVER do that. Yep, that kind of stupid is in me. Oh, I catch myself about as quickly as it makes its way to the surface, but it has been there nonetheless. I am tired of trouble. I am tired of old ghosts, and new ghosts, and health problems that keep popping up, and especially doctors that do not put a step on it. I wanted this holiday season to be spent making fun memories, no trouble, Justin completely healthy, and doting on our angel baby during our favorite time of year. You know- the whole picturesque Christmas scene. Obviously it will not be that simple for us this year, but it is not impossible. We are still capable of making fun memories, and Justin's health issue is not so bad as so many others. It is actually a blessing to find out about his afib this early on, rather than when we are older. It has bothered him for some time, but now he can actually pinpoint what it is causing the trouble. Our sweet boy will always have our love and attention. As for old ghosts and new, I am caring less and less about them all of the time. I am trying to devote more time and energy to those I love and fight the battles that really matter. I am seeing things differently, more strongly. I certainly am more appreciative of what we do have. This chapter is bringing us closer together and closer to our faith. It is bringing out the best and worst of all of us, and we are taking note and thinking long and hard about it. Even in difficult times, there is so much joy to be had. This chapter in our lives will soon be over. There will be others, we are certain, that are just as difficult, more or less. One fact remains, love will prevail. God will see us through just as He has seen us through in the past. This is true for all of us, sweet friends.    With all of that said (sorry for the length), I wish y'all the happiest of Thanksgivings be it with friends, family, or sweet strangers. May you find as much joy in your life as you possibly can and with grateful hearts gather around the table to enjoy our day of Thanksgiving. Happy Thanksgiving!