Dust Does Not Signify the End

Today I had the incredible honor and privilege to speak at my Grandpa Danny's funeral.  When I struggled for days with what he would have me to say, God put a message in my heart that I knew I needed to share.  Somewhere, someone, needs to know that dust does not signify the end, but rather it is the very ingredient that must be present for the new to begin!

My grandpa holding me as a baby

My grandpa Danny was a charming, charismatic, and witty man.  He had an infectious laugh and would light up the room as soon as he walked in it.  When he would come and visit we’d sit around the table for hours after breakfast each morning talking and laughing while he told stories, the same stories he told over and over.  Like the time he brought a squirrel to school and it ran up Mrs. Boyd’s dress or when he took his sister Sherry out into the cornfield and lost her or when his father was the boy scout leader and he and his brother Andy were always getting into trouble.  With 6 kids there was always mischief, but he loved his parents and siblings dearly. 

Grandpa also loved to joke and have a good time.  One of his favorite things to do was tease others.  And one of his favorite people to tease was my brother.  And once grandpa had something to tease you about he never let it go.  Like the time Nick went to go on a run at a track behind one of grandpa’s houses and he came back a short while later and grandpa forever teased him about his 5 minute workouts.  Or when my brother and cousin were trying out different churches, he teased them about going to all the different churches and converting to different religions just to pick up chicks.

When I think about the memories, I am reminded of the trips we would take over the summer to visit grandpa here in San Antonio.  He would take us shopping at Fredericksburg, to the River Walk, Alamo, Fiesta Texas, Sea World and we also spent several summers at the lake on his boat.

My grandpa had the best of everything so naturally when my brother and I came to visit we were like two bulls in a china cabinet.  Grandpa had to teach us how to sit down on his leather couch without pushing it back and scuffing up the wall, how to place the shower curtain so that water wouldn’t leak out all over his floor, how to not rile up his dog and get him running around the house, and he also told us to leave the accordion wall mirror in the bathroom alone.  One day I was sitting in the living room when I heard Nick quietly whisper my name, “Kristy”  “Kristy” “Come here” I walked around the corner to see the small wall mirror stretched out all the way into the hallway.  Nick wanted to see how far he could stretch the mirror and had it pulled out so far that it had gotten stuck and wouldn’t go back in. “Grandpa is going to kill you!” I said.  Thankfully we got it pulled back inside, but we still never heard the end of it.

Grandpa and my brother, Nick, going for a ride on his Harley

One time grandpa took us to Fiesta Texas Six Flags.  I was afraid to ride the Rattler roller coaster.  He was trying so hard to convince me to ride that he finally made a deal with me that he would later live to regret.  Back in the day, Doc Martin sandals were REALLY cool and I REALLY wanted a pair.  They were the really chunky sandals that literally weighed like ten pounds.  So not really knowing what they were, he told me that he’d buy the sandals for me if I’d just ride with him.  I no longer needed convincing because I would do anything to have them.  So, we jumped in line and successfully rode the roller coaster together.  The next day he sent Kathy and I to the mall to get them.  He handed her a $50 and I said “Ummm that’s not going to cut it.”  He said, “How much are these sandals?”  I said they were over $100!  “$100 for sandals?!!”  "I could make them for that!"  He was going to back out and I said nope a deal’s a deal.  Needless to say I got the shoes, but I never heard the end of it!  Years later, he was still convinced I conned him into buying me those sandals by pretending I had a fear of roller coasters!  That was our relationship.  I challenged him.  I called him out.  He would often tease and tell me to just be quiet because he didn’t like the sassy truth I was laying out for him.  We enjoyed the banter between one another.

But I also know that grandpa was incredibly proud of me.  He was there for me during the big moments in my life like when I graduated college and when I got married.  Dancing together at my wedding was one of my fondest memories.  "Love Shack" was a sentimental song that we had sang many times over the years, so when it came on at my reception dancing to it with him made it extra special. 

A trip we took to see Grandpa after his diagnosis 

I called grandpa the last week of his life to tell him I loved him and would see him again someday in Heaven.  I wanted him to have peace and to no longer suffer or be in pain.  And I know that as soon as Grandpa took his last breath here on Earth, God finally took that pain away.  He took away the disease and made him whole again. 

I want everyone here this morning to know that there will be pain that we experience in this life that could never have answers this side of heaven.  Pain so devastating that it leaves us questioning how God could ever allow such a thing to happen.  Some of us so broken that we question if God is even real.

But our promise is made clear in John 16:33 when Jesus says “I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me.  Here on earth you will face many trials and sorrows.  But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” 

I know that this disease shattered grandpa.  It robbed him of living out the final years of his life here on this earth with his loved ones.  I also know that as I look out across this crowd today, many of us have also been shattered.  Shattered by the loss of a husband, a father, a grandfather, a brother, and a dear friend.  Shattered by grief, deep pain, disappointment, and loss.

Famous author and speaker, Lysa Terkeurst, once shared that sometimes the pain in our life can shatter us to pieces.  Pieces so broken that we see no way of putting them back together.  Pieces so shattered that all that remains is dust.  And when our human minds see dust we think it’s over.  There’s no possible way that we or even God could ever find a way to put it back together. 

Yet what we don’t realize is that dust is one of God’s favorite ingredients!  Because it was dust he used to create mankind.  It was dust mixed with his saliva that healed a blind man’s eyes. In the dust of the ground he wrote with his finger to challenge the condemning crowd that those without sin to cast the first stone.  And it was the same dust that he washed off the very disciples’ feet that would go on to deny and betray him the night he was crucified. 

The statue that stands outside of Cornerstone Church where grandpa's funeral was held.
I don't believe this statue was any coincidence to the words in my speech of Jesus washing the dust off of Peter's feet.

God uses dust to create beautiful things, to teach powerful lessons, and to remind us all that we are NOT a lost cause.  

Dust does not signify the end, but rather a beginning.  

Dust is the very ingredient that a potter can mix with water to make clay.  Isaiah 64:8 explains that God is our creative potter, “And yet, O LORD, you are our Father.  We are the clay, and you are the potter.  We are all formed by your hand.” 

As Grandpa sits at the feet of Jesus this morning, I believe with all of my heart, that he would want his family and friends to know that our time here on earth is fleeting.  I believe he would challenge us this side of heaven to be humble and kind.  To love and show mercy.  To apologize and forgive.  And more than anything that we would let God have our dust so that he can make something beautiful out of our lives while we are still here on this earth.  

Because at the end of our life, when we slip from this broken, sin-filled world into a perfect eternity, it will be the only thing that EVER truly mattered.

I stand here with hope this morning because I know exactly where my grandpa is and I know that someday I will see him again soon.  

I love you grandpa and I’m thankful for your love, for the laughs, but most importantly the lessons you’ve taught me in this life. 

My Other Half

Well, it’s Valentine’s Day…and my goal is to hit two birds with one stone.  I need to blog, but I also need to express to my Valentine how incredibly special that he is to me and our little family, so why not do both at the same time?

What I want to preface before you start reading is that this will be a highlight reel.  I caution you as you read my letter to my husband to know that we are in a good season of life right now.  But that doesn’t mean we haven’t had tough times, that we haven’t experienced difficulties in our marriage, that some days we have had to fight like hell to keep going, that we’ve had to swallow our pride, make sacrifices on behalf of the other person and learn how to apologize and forgive.  Nothing about marriage is easy.  It’s messy and it’s beautiful all at the same time.

Marie Photography

Brendan,

The other day someone asked me how I did it.  “How are you working full-time, being a mother full-time, participating in other activities, and going to school full-time?”  My response was simple…my husband.  Well, a lot of late nights…but definitely my husband. 

This new season of marriage, now that we have added Brooks to the mix, is different.  A good different.  We are more of a team.  A unit.  We cannot function without one another.  From the moment Brooks was born you have been fully invested and hands-on.  You’re fully present with us and always doing everything you can to help out.  I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know.  I know that it is rare.  I hear and see so many women doing it by themselves.  I can’t express to you what it means to know that I’m not in this alone.  That you have and will continue to provide what Brooks and I need.  You change diapers, you give baths, you sing songs, you read books, you play, you feed…you are all in. 

You’re the best father!  I knew you’d be great, but man I had no idea how great you’d be!  I sometimes sit back and watch you with Brooks as you chase him around the house as he screams and runs away, how you read the bible to him every Saturday morning as he “listens” while playing with his toys, or when you vacuum a thousand times a week with him because you know that is his favorite thing to do… and it just brings tears to my eyes.  Brooks LOVES his daddy!  Every evening he squeals with delight and runs to the door when he hears the garage door go up, knowing that daddy is finally home! 

My heart is overwhelmed with how much love you have for him and how intentional you are with him.  As I pray for Brooks and his future, I know he is going to have a great example of a godly man, husband, and father.  He is and will continue to learn so much from you and who you are.  My favorite time as a family is bed time.  I love giving him a bath together, getting him ready for bed together, but my most favorite is turning out the lights, sitting in his chair, as you kneel down in front of us, wrap your arms around the both of us and pray over us.  A lump wells in my throat as you whisper, “Daddy loves you.  Mommy loves you.  Jesus loves you.  Good night.”

I want you to know that I never want to take you for granted.  I could not be who I am or do what I do without you!  You are my rock.  You are my encourager.  You are my defender.  In life, I have learned pretty quickly that I can’t be all things at all times and when I have a million things on my plate, something has to give…something has to go.  For me, that has been the grocery shopping, housework, and errands.  I have needed you more than ever and you have stepped up and filled the voids left by my crazy schedule.  You’ve happily taken them on and never complain.  You keep our life afloat!  Every time I try to show or tell you my appreciation, you simply respond with, “That’s what I’m supposed to do!”  So, again, thank you, for what you have been and continue to be for us! 

I will never forget sitting in our living room, talking about if and when we were going to start a family and we were both so scared.  I primarily worried about two things…how will this change our marriage and how will this change my life.  Both are better than they ever were before.  Not just because we have Brooks, but because I have you.  A new you.  The father you.  And I like this new you.  It makes me love you even deeper and enriches my life so much more. 

Marie Photography

Thank you for loving me, faults and all.  Thank you for forgiving me and being able to push past my moments of failures and weakness.  Thank you for making me a priority.  Thank you for loving me, serving me, and doing everything you can for me.  I appreciate you!  I love you!  And I’m so grateful for you!

Love,

Kristen

TORN

Pursuing my doctorate, returning to work full-time, and becoming a mother was just too much last year for me and something had to give…so I laid my blog aside.  I find joy and comfort in writing.  My New Year’s Resolution was to return.  It’s an avenue, an outlet, and a way that I find strength in sharing.  I’ve changed the name of my blog to better fit all of my new adventures and pursuits.  In everything that I am…wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, colleague…the center of it is and will always be, my faith.  “The Faith-Filled Woman” is my new blog. In hopes of sharing, encouraging, learning, and growing with other women who are going through the exact same things! 
Comment, Share, Enjoy!  Thanks for reading! 

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Recently (and by recently I mean three months ago), we celebrated my son, Brooks’ first birthday.  His theme was, “My Oh My, This Year Flew By!” and indeed it had!  Everyone tells you how fast it goes, but like everything else in life, you have to truly experience it for yourself to fully understand the magnitude of what they mean.  Thanks to my close companions…Pinterest, Etsy, and Google Search, mommy found all she needed (and so much more), to make the birthday theme come together perfectly.

One of my most favorite ideas (not original, of course) was asking the guests to write a letter to Brooks that will be compiled into a book.  He will receive this book on his 18^th birthday to read the hopes, wishes, dreams, advice, and most of all the prayers that the people who love him had and still have for him as he enters into the realms of adulthood.  For him to know he was loved, supported, and prayed for his entire life, by not only his parents, but for all the family and friends in our lives is a gift more powerful than we could ever physically give him.

As I reflected back on the past year as a new mother one thing that has been the most difficult for me was feeling a bit confused…maybe even a little lost.  You see, my whole life, I’ve always known my purpose.  From the time that I was little, I had always wanted to be a teacher.  That dream turned into a self-fulfilling career.  A career that I pursued whole-heartedly.  I wanted to make a difference in the lives of my students.  To show them that their dreams, really could come true.  I got my masters and even began pursuing my doctorate in educational leadership before my son, Brooks, came along.  My career aspirations continued in the field of education, finding new avenues and ways to impact the lives of children.  I had woken up every single day genuinely excited to go to my job, knowing that I was needed and my life had a purpose…but then I had my son. 

As I prepared to become a mother, I was going to be a working mom and have it all.  I would be a dang good mother, but I would still have my career and purpose too!  I was not ready, nor was I prepared, to feel the way that I did…and quite frankly, still do. 

Leaving my son in the care of another person to watch him (and essentially help raise him) for 8 hours a day was by far the most difficult thing I have ever experienced.  Extending my maternity leave to the very last day that I could without losing my job and ugly crying in my principal’s office about how I have never felt so torn in my life, was what I did to try and fight my way through it.  I wasn’t ready to quit my job of ten years, but I physically had NO IDEA how I was going to walk back through those front doors. 

Someone else was going to rock my son to sleep.  Someone else was going to console him as he cried.  Someone else was going to kiss his boo-boos and tell him it would be alright.  Someone else was going to laugh with him, read him books, and watch as he learned and tried new things for the first time.  The mom guilt…Oh, the mom guilt!




It was all a blur (due to the uncontrollable tears, really), but somehow I managed to return to work.  My heart ached and the joy I had found in teaching had been replaced with this new joy I found in motherhood.  It left me feeling a little lost when I returned to work.  A little torn.  A little confused. 


My passion, my purpose, had changed.  It’s not that I didn’t love my students, families, school, and job anymore, it’s just that it was no longer something that completely fulfilled me.  Something else had filled my heart….something else needed my devoted love and attention.  I never thought this mother thing would touch me the way it had and ultimately challenge everything I thought I had ever wanted. 

I wish I could say that a year later, I have it all figured out.  But I don’t.  I still wake up every morning, torn.  I have students who need me and I want to be there for them, but I also have a son who loves his mama.  I try with every ounce of me to do both right.  When I’m at work, I try to be committed to my students and families.  When I’m at home, I try to be committed to my family.  If I'm honest with you...It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. 

If I have learned anything in this life, it is this…you don’t have to have it all figured out.  I know with time, patience, and faith that everything will all be ok. I’m trying to stay obedient to the calling on my life.  If I’m supposed to be a teacher.  I’ll stay.  If I’m supposed to be a full-time mother.  I’ll stay.  If I'm to do both.  I will.

I’m such a devoted and passionate person, that part of me is struggling with feeling like I have to choose one or the other…and maybe the lesson I’m learning is that I don’t have to. 

But for now, I’ll pray and walk it out one day at a time, one foot in front of the other, trying my hardest to give both the devotion they deserve.

We have an amazing daycare provider who loves Brooks and cares for him in the best ways!  I know he’s safe, loved, and cared for.  Meanwhile, I’ll try to suppress the mom guilt and navigate this new, conflicted, messy, beautiful purpose in my life. 

No One Could Have Prepared Me...

I started this blog three weeks ago and was just now able to finish it…welcome to motherhood, I guess! J 

As I sit here typing with swollen fingers, barely able to lean forward with burning pain at the site of the incision, I have reflected upon the insurmountable events of this past week, in the dark of my living room, with my newborn swaddled tight and snuggled asleep by my side, and I can’t help but think about how no one…NO ONE…could have ever prepared me for this.

No one could have prepared me for the immense love that I would have for this tiny human being I just met.  No one could have prepared me for the reckless and unpredictable emotions that would spring to life at the drop of a hat, the kinds of emotions where you are surprised by some, ashamed by others, and completely undone by most.

And then there’s the hormones…the intensity that overwhelms your body and causes it to constantly secrete unpredictable tears that well-up by just one thought, one comment, or one moment. 

No one could have prepared me for what would happen during my labor with Brooks.  No one could have prepared me for this story.  No one could have prepared me for my story.  The story of how I would become a mom…

As I entered the last weeks of pregnancy and Brooks’ arrival drew closer and closer, I was filled with amounting anticipation of the unknown that was shortly on the horizon.  I was extremely excited for the way I had always pictured it would all play out in my mind…because after all, it always happens the way you wanted it to happen or the way it is supposed to happen…right?!!

Well…I’ve never been more wrong about something in my entire life.  I’ve never been more completely out of control of a situation more in my life.  I’ve never been more devastated by the way it all happened, than in my labor and delivery.  Unknowingly, it was truly one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to go through.

Brooks was due on October 18.  With each passing day, the anticipation of all the unknowns were literally wearing on me.  When is he coming?  How is he coming? Why is he not coming? Is everything ok?  Will I have to be induced?  Will there be complications?   The questions poured in, but my positive thinking responses pushed them right back out.  He’s coming.  He will be healthy and perfect.  It will be any easy labor.  Pretty soon he will be on your chest, skin-to-skin and Brendan will be standing by your side, smiling at you holding your baby boy.

An emergency C-Section…well…that NEVER crossed my mind.

On October 26 we went to my 41 week appointment.  Brooks and I were healthy, but I was only dilated to a “maybe” one.  We had the dreaded induction discussion and the doctor set the date to induce for Sunday, October 30 with hopes of delivery on Monday, October 31.  Sheer panic began to set in.  I LOATHE Halloween!  It’s the one holiday that so many others enjoy and that I truly despise.  Our son CANNOT be born on Halloween.  I begged to move the date and if there were any other options.  To which my doctor responded, “Well we make decisions based on medicine, not holidays.”  Obviously she didn’t get the gravity of the situation.  J

We got in the car to head home and tears filled my eyes.  This was all COMPLETELY out of my control and I hated every single part of it.

So, doing what I do best, I tried to grab and claw at any small amount of control (I told myself) I had left and decided that I would just have to walk this baby out.  So, that’s what I did.  I went home and walked…and then walked some more…and then walked some more.  I’d like to say that it worked, but really, I think Brooks was going to begin to make his arrival that evening anyway, I just didn’t know it yet!

I went into labor that evening around 6:30.  Contractions getting more painful by the minute and timing them as they came.  I called the doctor at 8:30 and she said it’s time to come in!  We arrived at the hospital and immediately assessed.  Yes, the contractions were coming at just the right intervals, but only a slight dilation difference.  When I heard that we needed to get to walking (yes more walking) the halls in my hideous hospital gown, my hopes began to rise.  I had pictured this.  This was fulfilling my plan.  With every step down the hallway, the contractions became stronger and stronger.  As I stopped to endure the pain for one to two minutes at a time, I just kept telling myself, you only have a few more hours to go before they put this baby boy in your arms!  You can do this!

The positive thoughts quickly dissipated.  People lie.  Contractions hurt like HELL!  And if they tell you it “wasn’t that bad” they are delusional or lying to your face!

The minutes turned into hours, the contractions turned from painful to unbearable.  The worst pain you will EVER feel in your life!  There was no relief.  The stupid breathing in and out did nothing to help and no matter how hard I squeezed Brendan’s hand, the pain never magically passed from me to him as I desperately wished it would.  The labor pains literally made me feel like my back would split into two parts at my tailbone.  With every contraction, Brendan had to push on my tailbone to give some kind of relief.  (Later when we discovered he was head-up and stuck there, that explained the excruciating pain in my back).

By 3:00 and check-in after check-in, I was still only dilated to a two.  With pity, the nurse called the doctor and begged them to take me back to labor and delivery to start the epidural.  Thank God for her!

At 3:30 am, all thanks to modern day medicine (oh epidural how I love you!!), I was finally relieved of the 8 hours of pain.  I have a new respect for women who do it without drugs, I really have no idea how they do it!

They broke my water and began administering Pitocin to see if it would progress the dilation.  It’s over, I thought.  Now, it’s only going to be a few more hours until they put this baby boy into my arms!  You can do this!

Hour by hour, check after check, side flip after side flip…dilation progressed so slowly it began to feel like torture.  The emotions were as consistent as a roller coaster, highest of highs, and lowest of lows with every hour check-up.  Every time the nurse walked in, you felt disappointed for no progress or extremely ecstatic for one more centimeter.  As we approached early afternoon the on-call doctor (because your real doctor you’ve spent the last ten months with will likely NOT deliver you), came in to assess.

“You’re not progressing at the rate that you should be.  We will increase the Pitocin, but at this point, you need to mentally be preparing yourself for a C-section.” When I heard those words, disappointed is not even an adequate word to describe my feelings.  Panic set in, tears filled my eyes, and I looked to Brendan, who amazingly stood by my side, positively encouraging and coaching me along throughout the day, to assure me that everything was going to be ok, and that we would soon meet our son.

“Let’s just pray that you begin to dilate fast,” he said.  So we prayed and hoped for the best for our next check-in.  And as quickly as panic came, relief came faster.  Answered prayers!  I went from a 4 to a 6.  Then a 6 to a 7.  And finally hours later, a 7 to an 8. Thank you God!  C-section is back off the table and my anticipation of the way I always envisioned it would happen… was now back in clear sights.  We did it!

But wait, not so fast!  Another let down was on the horizon.  A few more hours passed, and there was no change in dilation.  Another hour passed…Another check by the nurse, hoping to hear those four words, “It’s time to push.”  But this time, I would hear no such thing.  I had spiked a fever from laboring for so long.  Brooks was now at risk.  The nurses quickly called the doctor back in.  The next five minutes were devastating.  “You are now risking the baby’s health.  Even if I let you go another hour to see if you progress, in my experience the outcome will be the same.  More than likely, nothing will have changed, and your baby will be in even more danger.  Unfortunately, we no longer have a choice.  We’re going to have to do a C-section.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, panic sent shock waves throughout my already numb body.  This can’t be happening.  I was never going to have a C-section.  This was NOT part of the plan.  I was robbed of my vision of how this delivery would all unfold.  The mom guilt became devastatingly real.  I’m risking my baby’s health!  What if something goes wrong?  Is this my fault?  Should we have done a C-Section earlier, but I was too stubborn?  What do I do?

I did what any mom would do, I let go of what I wanted, for the sake of the health of my son.

The next five minutes were a blur.

They prepped me for the OR, threw Brendan the scrubs, pumped me full of even more drugs and wheeled me down into the room where my dreams would be shattered in just ten minutes.

I had always been the person during pregnancy to never have a “birth plan.”  I told people that I really didn’t care how he came out as long as he came out!  If we had to do a C-section, no big deal. 

But the funny thing is that I never realized when I said that, I was lying to them…and to myself.  I did care.  I cared, not so much that it made me less of a labor warrior, but more so because I had a vision.  A vision of how it was supposed to be.  I would earn the badge of honor with each push.  Brendan would be by my side coaching me on how great I was doing and that he was almost there.  The doctors and nurses looking up at me telling me that they could see the head and that I only had a few more pushes.  They would pull out a screaming, nasty, wet baby and immediately place him in my arms for skin to skin contact and bonding time.  Brendan would come over to us and with tears in his eyes, tell me how proud he was and how much he loved me and softly kiss me on my forehead.  We would admire our baby boy and watch the nursing staff clean him, weigh him, and tell me how healthy he was.  I would breastfeed right away and Brendan would stand by our side.

That was the dream…the vision…the plan…I had unknowingly always played out in my mind.

But that dream didn’t happen.

With the curtain in front of me, I couldn’t see Brooks at all.  No one was coaching me.  No one was talking to me.  They were busy cutting me open and getting him out.  As they pulled him out, they told Brendan to take a look.  The umbilical cord had been wrapped several times around his leg and that was why he wasn’t dropping further into the birth canal and dilation had stopped.  He was stuck and was never coming out that way.

They finally pulled him out and I could hear his soft cry, but it would be an eternity before I would catch a glimpse of him.  And that’s when this strange jealousy arose.  All of a sudden, it was no longer about Brooks and mommy.  It was about Brooks and daddy.  Dad got to see him for the first time.  Dad’s the one to see that he had a head full of hair.  He heard dad’s voice first. Dad got to console him while he cried as they cleaned him.  Dad watched him get foot printed and weighed.  Dad got to take pictures of him and stand by his side.  Brooks’ beautiful blue eyes were on dad first. 

And all the while, I was left shaking uncontrollably on the table (apparently this is common at delivery due to the rise of hormones, another thing I had no idea would happen).  I couldn’t see him, hold him, or do the skin-to-skin that I heard was so important for mommy and baby bonding.

It was the strangest feeling in the entire world.  I had no emotions.  I wasn’t filled with the utmost joy that I thought I would.  Instead, I was filled with sorrow and disappointment.  I could hear them talking about his hair, how alert he was, and how handsome he was, but I couldn’t see for myself.  I felt so separated, so removed.  I thought I was supposed to feel immense love when he came into the world, but all I felt was numb.

I had never researched, read about, or really thought about a C-section.  I wished I would have.

Maybe if I had, this wouldn’t have been such a blow.

After what felt like an eternity, Brendan finally brought him over to me.  The staff took pictures as Brendan held him in his arms and I laid there trying to process what just happened.  I couldn’t hold him because I was shaking so much.  I remember being so sad and so overwhelmed with devastation.

But then, something happened.  Something that saved me in that moment.  Brendan placed our son on my chest.  He was crying.  I looked at him with all the emotion I could muster and said, “Hi, Brooks Isaiah.  This is mommy.”  He immediately stopped crying and simply looked up at me.  He knew his mommy’s voice and he knew his mommy loved him. Despite it all, he knew who his mommy was…even if I wasn’t the first to see him, to hold him, to console him. 

As they wheeled me back to the room, Brendan behind us pushing our son in his bassinet, I have never felt more disappointed, more confused, more let down in my life. 

I never had time to consider a different plan.  I never had time to understand the process of a cesarean birth or to mentally prepare myself for a new dream of how it would all play out.

As I lay there wanting to feel sorry for myself, the pity party abruptly stopped as Brendan put Brooks back into my arms and walked over to get his Bible.  He pulled out a hand-written letter.  “Brooks, daddy wrote you and mommy a letter.  Is it ok if I read it?”

Brooks sat perfectly still and looked up at his daddy as he read each word, written with so much love and care.  Tears began to fill my eyes as I watched my husband read his penned words to our son.  Beautiful words of how he vowed to love him, to protect him, to pray for him, and to raise him to respect me and to love God.  Words about how we prepared for him and are so excited for what’s in store for his future.  Words about how God has a plan for his life and has known him and loved him from the time of his conception.    Words about how our family is now complete and the piece we never knew was missing has finally come to fruition.

My heart was completely overwhelmed and I was undone.  I have a family.  A beautiful, God-given family that I am so fortunately blessed to have.  It no longer mattered how Brooks came into this world or the unbearable pain that was now forgotten.  He was here and he completed Brendan and me in a way we never would have been otherwise.  When I didn’t think it was possible to love Brendan any more than I already did, I was proven wrong again.  This love.  This new love.  It was like nothing else I had ever felt before. 

As I sit here now and watch Brooks sleeping, I am truly filled with that utmost joy, the joy that I was scared would never come.  I now feel that immense amount of love.  I have an undoubted assurance that I would do ANYTHING, and I mean ANYTHING to protect him.

The love a new mom is supposed to have, well it’s here and completely overwhelms and consumes me every second of every day. 

When I look into his beautiful and alert blue eyes, when I touch his soft, lavender skin, when he nestles into my chest and snores, when his fingers wrap tightly around mine, when he breathes softly against my neck as he lays on my shoulder, when he rapidly shakes and stretches out with his eyes still tightly closed, a frown burrows as he is awakening, when he yawns so big he makes a squealing noise, when he sleeps peacefully and somehow perfectly fits in my arms…that’s when I know.  I know that I’m in love. 

This little man, just like his daddy, has FOREVER, stolen my heart. 

Brooks Isaiah Leaming.  You are loved.  As daddy whispered to you every night in my womb and now tells you every night as we lay you down to sleep.  “Jesus loves you.  God loves you.  Mommy and Daddy love you.”

Welcome to the World little one.  Your mommy and daddy will NEVER be the same!

Side Bar:  I know and understand that women have C-sections all day, every day and to some it is not that big of a deal.  It’s planned and sometimes it’s even preferred.  I know my story may sound dramatic to some, but for me it was a real part of this entire process of becoming a mother.  The difficulty of the 24 hour labor, the emotional ups and the downs of every hour that passed with progress and then with no progress, all of the unknowns and complete shock of how it all happened so fast, made this entire process extremely difficult for me.  So, I guess now I know.  Now I can prepare.  Now I won’t be so overwhelmed the next time…if there is a next time.  J

What Better Way to Celebrate 5 Years of Marriage, Than to Welcome our First Born?

For our five year anniversary we had always talked about going back to Jamaica, where our adventures began just a short while ago.  We talked about how we would return to walk the beach hand-in-hand, sand in our toes, water lapping around our feet, orange and pink sunset filling the sky, sipping our island drinks with tiny umbrellas, and reminiscing about the last five years of marriage. 

Our Honeymoon in Jamaica

Little did we know five years ago, that this very moment of time we would be welcoming our baby boy into the world in just a few short days.  So, consequently, the second honeymoon...well it will have to wait...And I'm OK with that!  Because if I can't be at the beach, I can think of nowhere else I'd rather be and nothing else I would rather do than to start this family of three with an amazing man by my side.

8 Months Pregnant

Fall just seems to be our time.  It's when we realized that we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together and Brendan asked my father for his permission to marry me.  It's when we made a vow to love each other until death do us part.  It's when we celebrated our one year anniversary in Guatemala and returned again the next year because we fell in love with missions.  It's when we went to the beach to watch Brendan's sister get married and began discussing what it would be like to have a family and if we were ready to start our own.  And now a year later, our family is growing by two feet and our exciting adventures into parenthood are shortly on the horizon. 

The Day We Found Out it was a BOY!!

Through these five years we've learned more about ourselves, more about each other, and more about life than we were honestly ever probably ready for!  Marriage is hard.  Marriage is work.  And if someone doesn't tell you that, they are lying. 

Marriage is about learning how to become selfless, to love someone when you really don't feel like loving them or when they definitely may not deserve to be loved.  Marriage is about trusting and relying on someone completely, but knowing they will never fully make you happy or complete.  Not because they aren't trying or have every intention of meeting your needs, but simply because they were never meant to.  Marriage is about forgiveness.  It's about showing love and respect.

Our Beutiful Wedding Day

While it's never easy, it is completely worth it.  And that was the same epiphany we had when we decided to start a family. 

I feel like I hit the jackpot when I look at my husband...and not just because he's easy on the eyes, but because of the man he is and the heart he has.  In these last five years I could tell you story after story and example after example of how he is my rock, my encourager, my prayer warrior, and my best friend. 

I fall more in love with him every day.  Lately, my heart literally feels like it could burst with the amount of love that I have for Brendan. 

When I hear him talk to our son every night before we go to bed about how much that mommy and daddy love him and how much Jesus loves him more.  When I watch his face light up as he feels Brooks kick in response to his voice.  When he reads scripture or prays over Brooks.  When we laugh until it hurts because he makes fun of my pregnancy brain and lack of vocabulary.  When he stares at me across the room and tells me I'm the most beautiful woman even though I feel like a beached whale.  When I watch him pray over my grandpa with Alzheimer's and carry on full conversations with him even when they no longer make any sense.  When he holds my hand and tells me as we leave the nursing home that Brooks has an amazing great grandfather and legacy to live up to. 

These moments, are when I know that I am incredibly blessed. These moments are when I know I am right where I need to be.  These moments are when it is all worth it. 

People ask us all of the time if we are nervous to be parents.  It's crazy how as I sit here and reflect on that answer I have the same response that I did when it was the eve of our wedding. 

And that is simply this...I'm actually not nervous, my excitement supersedes my nerves.  I'm just ready! 

Call me naive if you want to, but just as I couldn't wait another day to be Brendan's wife five years ago, I cannot wait another day to be Brooks' mom.

Rehearsal-The Night Before Our Lives Changed Forever

Will life forever be changed?  Who's wouldn't?!  Will it be hard?  Duh!  Will it be the best decision I ever made?  No doubt.  Will I sit here on my couch five years later and not be able to picture my life any differently?  One hundred percent, YES! 

Brendan, happy five year anniversary!  5 years down...60 more to go.  You are going to be an amazing father.  I can't wait to start this new journey with you by my side.

I have a feeling Brooks is going to stay in a little longer and let mommy and daddy celebrate this last weekend together!

The Fearful Plunge into Parenthood

Pictures by Marie Photography

Last night we attended the Hillsong United/Lauren Daigle concert, a great family tradition, where Brendan and I’s families come together to have dinner, rich conversation, and intentional worship.  I love this tradition because it brings our families together through our strongest tie that binds us…our faith…and because worship always has a funny way of bringing you the most profound epiphanies (and blog posts). 

What made last night incredibly overwhelming was the difference that one or two years can make in your life.  When you stand at the top of the mountain and look down at the valleys you hopelessly trudged through below, you’re sweetly reminded that God is a God of miracles.  That he delivers.  That he intercepts on our behalf.  That he cares.  That he never left you, nor did he ever forsake you. 

Songs have a way of speaking to me in capacities that some people, some books, some experiences never do.  I listened intently last night to song after song that accompanied me on this journey.   One song in particular by Lauren Daigle was the one that carried me through the relentless fears I had this past year.  The song is called Trust in You.  Every single word is incredibly powerful, but the chorus was my recited prayer for months. 

   

I remember hanging on every word, crying out the lyrics, deeply desiring for them to be true.  I wanted to trust, but I couldn’t rally myself to trust completely.  Songs were my prayers, when I couldn’t pray anymore.  Songs were the words, when I couldn’t speak another word.  Songs were the peace, I couldn’t seem to find.  Songs.  This Song.  Changed my life. 

Taking the plunge into parenthood was something that was never an easy decision for us.  The fears we had were overpowering and overshadowed the pure joy we knew we would experience in raising our children.  The “what if’s” and the “will we’s” flooded our thoughts and conversations every time we tried to sit down and discuss the life altering decision of starting a family.  What if we don't have enough money?  What if we have to make sacrifices that make us resent our children?  What if we aren't ready?  Will our marriage change?  Will I be a good mother?  Will I be selfish?  Will I have enough time?  Will I lose friendships?  What if something is wrong with the baby?  What if we can’t get pregnant?   

Some things you can simply just talk to death.  This was one such thing.  We came to the simple realization that we will NEVER be completely ready to have kids.  If we wanted them we would simply have to close our eyes, lock our hands together, and jump.  Jump-not knowing where we would land.  Jump-not knowing what lies in store ahead.  Jump-not knowing all the answers to all of the questions. We would have to jump in complete trust and faith, that if God wanted us to become parents, he would make it possible and he would answer every question in its own time. 

Once you make that decision a light bulb switches on in your brain and there’s no turning back.  You can’t climb back up the cliff you just jumped off of.  You can’t reverse it and you can’t control it.  You have no idea what lies at the bottom.  That is one of the scariest feelings in the entire world. 

I would love to say that I jumped gracefully.  But I did NO. SUCH. THING.  I freaked out a little….ok that’s not entirely true…I freaked out …A LOT.  I tried to impatiently grab onto every branch sticking out along the way, only to find it all slipping away through my trembling fingers.  I lost control.  And I HATE losing control. 

We started “trying” with the agreement we would keep it private.  I didn’t want people to know.  I didn’t want the stares.  The questions.  The judgment.  The unsolicited advice.  I just thought it would be easier that way.

There’s a beauty in a secret that’s kept between just you and your spouse.  Only the two of you can share in it, experience it, and know what it is truly like to come out on the other side.

Naively, I thought getting pregnant would just happen.  Sure, we had friends that had trouble, but that wasn’t going to be us.  So, the first month, it didn’t happen.  No big deal.  We’ve got time.  Rarely do people make the goal in their first attempt. 

Then the second month…didn’t happen.  A little more disappointed.  Starting to let my thoughts wander.  Maybe we should get more serious in our attempts.  Whispers of fear began to fill my ears, I thought you didn’t want kids.  Now you do.  You won’t get pregnant.  You're not going to be a mom.

Meanwhile, Brendan is sick.  He goes into the doctor explains his symptoms and they want to run tests.  He’s presented with three options.  1.  Could be nothing, just needs to try some over-the-counter meds.  2.  Could be a life-long auto-immune disease.  3.  Could be cancer.  It’s the dreaded C word that stopped me dead in my tracks. 

Fear…immense fear this time…poured through my veins.  It’s not cancer.  It can’t be.  We are starting a family.  God wouldn’t do this to us.  But what if it is?  For some unexplainable reason, I had an overwhelming sense of peace that it wasn’t cancer. 

I believed in God’s truths.  I stood in his promises.  I was able to drown out the fears that were waging war on my every thought.  I could stand strong for my husband, not speaking a word of the possibilities we faced.

Tests were taken.  Results were in.  It wasn’t cancer, but it was a life-long disease.  Not curable.  But treatable.  Just take 8 pills a day, come in for routine check-ups, and you should live a happy, normal life.  Aside from it being nothing at all, this couldn’t have been a better outcome.  God answered our prayers. 

So since I needed more to worry about, I quickly shifted back to having kids after our slight medical detour.

With a heart full of hope and a mind full of positive thinking, I just knew the time was ours.  We stomped out the fears.  We defeated the lies the enemy whispered during that difficult month.  And we were ready to try again.

But then another setback.   

Brendan’s medication was making him sick.  It wasn’t working.  He was still having complications.  And one of the side effects of his new medication is reduced sperm count.  (Of course it was)!

I'm so embarrassed to admit it, but that’s when the enemy had finally won.  I had been able to deflect him in the past, but this just seemed to set me over the edge. 

God, what are you doing?  We finally make the decision to jump and now you want us to go through all of this?  Do you know how hard it was for me to decide that I even wanted to become a mom in the first place?  Now, I won't even be able to experience that?  I went to the extemes (I can be a little very dramatic).   

Question after question, whisper built upon whisper, and the fears grew louder and louder with every thought. 

Until one day I was completely undone.  My fears had won.  All rational thoughts were gone.

This is the excerpt from my prayer journal that morning as I sat on my living room couch in the dark and cried after reading the simple verse in 1^st John 1:5, “God is LIGHT and in him there is NO darkness.” 

God I’m afraid.  I’m afraid that we can’t have kids because I didn’t even want them in the first place.  I’m afraid we will have trouble.  I’m afraid you want us to struggle.  I’m afraid Brendan won’t heal.  I’m afraid I have lost control.  I’m afraid I have lost faith in you.  I’m afraid of this darkness that overpowers me. 

God I’m listing every fear I have one by one because I want you to take them.  My fears are blocking your light!  They are casting shadows on the truths that I know and believe with every ounce of me to be true.  God I need your light to pour over me, to shine onto the deepest, darkest fears that have paralyzed me so they will not have any more hold over me now.  I have spoken these fears and I release them to you.  God right here, right now, I stand.  I stand in confidence.  I stand in your light.  I will not stand in darkness.  I will not believe the lies.  I will not live in fear. 

 

Ten days after I prayed that prayer and after an early attempt of a failed pregnancy test (and yet another flip out moment), the positive pink plus sign FINALLY appeared a week later before my eyes.  I. AM. A. MOTHER.  I cried.  I thanked God.  I couldn’t stop smiling. 

But I also felt incredibly ashamed.  How could I have allowed fear to take over?  How could I have ever doubted God and his promises?  I was a little embarrassed by it all.  When people ask if we had trouble getting pregnant, the simple answer is no, not really.  But the little things we faced that I made into big things made me believe that we did.  I have had friends that have struggled with infertility for years, why did I freak out so much over just a few months?  I really had NO idea what it would be like to have to wait years to become a mother or to realize you can never have children. Nor did I show that I would even have the faith or the patience to handle that.  It was embarrassing. 

I stood right there in my bathroom, apologized, and prayed that my faith never waver like that again.  That fear would not have control over me any longer.  And that just because I coudn't control something didn't mean it was a lost cause.

In that moment, I knew exactly why I was becoming a mother.  The control I thought I had now, no longer exists.  I had to learn to live without control.  I had to learn to live in complete trust.  (I’m sure raising children will teach me these continued lessons over and over and over again).

As the day dragged on waiting for Brendan to arrive home to tell him in person, the fears slowly tried to creep back in.  But this time, they weren’t going to get the power they wanted over me.  This time, I wouldn’t listen.  Since that day, Brendan and I call out those fears.  We pray for the removal of them and we refuse to be held back  by them any longer.

This has been the most amazing experience so far.  I’m 28 weeks pregnant.  We will meet our baby boy in just 12 short weeks! 

Seeing our baby for the first time on the sonogram screen, hearing his heart pitter patter inside of me, feeling him move and kick, watching Brendan talk to my belly and smile as our baby boy kicks back in response to his voice, falling in love with a baby we haven’t even held in our arms yet…this…this is what God wanted for us. 

This was the scary plunge we were supposed to take.  Letting go of all control, being scared out of my mind, and being completely unsure of what we were doing, was exactly what God wanted.

The biggest decisions that you will face in this life aren’t easy.  Are you ready to get married?  Should you change careers?  Are you ready to share your story?  Should you go back to school?  Are you ready to start a family?  Should you start that business?

Here's what you need to know:

You will never have enough money.  Enough time.  Enough resources.  Enough support.  Enough qualifications. 

You have to be ok with not knowing. 

You have to make the conscious choice to walk blindly in faith across the carefully laid bricks in front of you trusting that where your own path leads…God is already there. 

It won’t be easy. 

You will doubt your choices. 

You will lose all control. 

You will, inevitably, become paralyzed in fear. 

But if you don’t move forward, you’ll never know what lies in store ahead. 

It might just be the biggest blessing you never thought you wanted or that was even possible. 

It just might be the best thing that has ever happened to you. 

Don't miss out on the blessings God has in store for your life simply because you were afraid to move.

So in whatever capacity you need to today….just jump. 

Take the plunge. 

Stop analyzing… stop controlling…and just jump. 

God will catch you when you land and place you exactly where you’re supposed to be. 

So last night, when I sang the words to my favorite Lauren Daigle song by heart, I smiled and this time joyful tears filled my eyes, because last night, I sang this song with my hands over my baby boy growing inside of me.  I no longer sang this song in hope of becoming a mom… I sang it in praise of being a mom.

When you don’t move the mountains, I’m needing you to move.  When you don’t part the waters, I wish I could walk through.  When you don’t give the answers, as I cry out to you.  I will trust. I will trust in you.    

He moved the mountains.  He parted the waters.  He didn’t give me all the answers, but he gave me the only answer I ever truly wanted to hear and never knew I wanted so badly. 

His timing.  His way.  That’s what faith and trust is all about.  All you have to do is jump!