The former's birthday

Today is his, the man I once shared my life with's, birthday.

Today, I miss the good things about him and the fun we shared.

Today, I miss his hugs and his voice.

Today, I miss his laughter.

Today, I miss surprising him.

Today, I miss showing him I love him.

His children don't know it's his birthday today.

I feel so conflicted about it.  I know that, for now anyway, it's best this way.  I know that the joy they find in birthdays, coupled with the lingering sting of his abandonment would confused and torment them in some way.

So we haven't talked about him.

We haven't celebrated him.

We haven't wished him a happy birthday.

I don't know where he is.  I don't know what he's doing.  I don't know if he's happy.

I hope he is, just because I'm a good person.

I know we are happy.

I am thankful that I can say that with honesty.

We are sad sometimes, the children more than I, of course, but overall, we are happy.

It doesn't mean we don't miss him, sometimes.

Somedays, we miss him more than others.

Today, the children haven't brought him up.

Today, though, I miss him.  I don't need him.  I don't want him.  I don't long for him.  But, I miss him.

It's amazing to me that it's been sixteen months since we've seen his face, heard his voice, or read any new words from him.  We live daily life completely void of his contact.  We live each day, in and out, without him.  But it still seems absolutely surreal that he has made the choice to live life this way, without us.  It sure wasn't a choice we made.  It was his.  I cannot understand it at all.

We didn't have contact with him on his birthday last year.  I didn't really miss him like this last year.  Last year, I was still so hurt and angry.  It's been two years since we saw him on his birthday.  Two years ago on his birthday, he was upset.  He was withdrawn and crabby that I not only had gotten a job, but I started it on his birthday, and he had to be a responsible person and get the children and I to and from work that day.  He had to pretend he was a loving, caring, doting father and husband, because we didn't want the world to know what was really going on between us, especially me in a brand new work environment with countless people I didn't know or know if I could trust.  It has been three years, really, since we had a birthday with him.  Our daughter wasn't even born that year.

It's amazing how slowly time moves by, but how quickly it does simultaneously.

There's so much that has happened in those three years, since our last happy his birthday together.

We've been through quite a harrowing storm.

We've made it through stronger.

I've accomplished so much without, despite, and because of him.

Today, I can see that.

Today, I can celebrate that.

Today- without him.

He took this photo of me the night after my high school graduation, in 2002.  It has such strong ties to our relationship.  I love it, though, because the emotion seems fitting for this juncture as well.

One Day

One day. One fine day. One fine day, someday.

Just one. Just one to start.

The past few days, I have been revisiting memories. This time a year ago, things were so rocky and unstable. I was still fighting the fight for my children to have a decent, loving father in their lives. I was still attempting to rebuild trust. 

I know that God calls us not to dwell on the past, but, as I am human as all of you, from time to time, it sneaks back up on me.  Knowing that we aren't supposed to be focusing our emotions and effort on the things we can't change, I make a conscious effort to stop and turn to God and pray when these times arise, but sometimes I don't even notice I'm doing it right away.

That said, the past few days have been emotionally taxing.  I have spent quite a few moments confiding in a few friends and praying, and reminding myself just how much better my life really is this year.  I keep telling myself that it is better to have stability in my children's lives than to have their father sneaking in and out, unreliable, inconsistent, and sneaking his boyfriend around them and sneaking the children around his boyfriend's family.  

But almost every year around this time, for many years anyway, I have had a break.  I have had a few hours to a couple days where I was child free, carefree, and spending time with a friend I see roughly once a year now that we are done with college.  

This year is different, because their dad isn't around.  While I am delighted and excited that our yearly visit is coming up, it brings the trauma back into my mind, remembering how it felt to find out what was happening while my children were away, and the repercussions that followed leading up to their dad being completely absent from their lives in pretty much every way nowadays.

But one day... hopefully... at least one day... someday...

He won't cross my mind at all.  Not once.  Not in a single memory.  Not in any shape or form.  Not a happy memory. Not a sad memory.  Nothing.  Just one day of peace.  

I pray that, anyway.

I know that I will always be bound to him in some regard, because together we created three wonderful children.  I see him in their appearances and their personalities and temperaments sometimes.  And I miss him.   Or I miss parts of him, the idea of the him I thought I knew, and what it was like to have someone around keeping me company in this crazy world of toddlers and preschoolers.

Even the happy memories make my heart ache just like the less happy memories.  They leave me aching for myself and for my children.

One day, I hope that ache doesn't arise even for a second.  

I don't want to forget him.  I don't want to really forget the trauma that lead us to where we are, because it's a part of our testimonies and God has done miraculous and glorious things.  

But, just one day, I would like a break.  

Just one day. 

Do you miss that sound?

Dear Sir,

It's been a little over a week since I found out that our marriage has legally ended.  The first few days were rough for me emotionally, but I pulled through, by the grace of God and prayers of many, I have found myself filled with more smiles than tears, more joy than sorrow.

Today, our nearly two-year-old daughter wandered around the apartment, asking me "where's Jake?"
I don't know if you read a few weeks ago, but she came upon your photo.  I told her your name and that you were her daddy.  She doesn't know what a daddy is of course, so she refers to you as Jake.  Today, she was looking for you.  Her brothers didn't even notice she was asking for you. Normally, her oldest one will tell her that you are her daddy.  Today, he didn't.

I took the children to the park today.  It was the first park venture of the season, and it was much needed after them all being sick off and on for approximately a week.  I missed three full days of work, and during those days, I will admit that my thoughts fluttered to you occasionally, frustrated mostly that you cannot be bothered to share the burden of sick days so that I can earn an income to provide for them, since you absolutely refuse to take any responsibility, financially or otherwise.

It is what it is, I guess.

Anyway, we went to the park.  I now have a camera to replace the one you got rid of, and I brought it along to take a few photos.  I forgot how much I loved taking photos until I couldn't any longer, and now I have fallen in love with the process all over again.  I got some great captures of all three of my babies.

There's one in particular, of my darlin' middle child, on a swing, his mouth wide open, his eyes smiling like crazy.  I posted it online for my friends and family to see.  I wrote a caption for it, something along the lines of "I can almost hear his laughter in this photo."

My thoughts ran back to you.  So, here I am.

I have to ask...

Do you miss that sound?  That beautiful, glorious sound of a heartfelt belly laugh?  It's one of my favorite sounds.  I could listen to each of our childrens' magnificent laughter all day long, really.  You know it's one of my favorite sounds, laughter.

And you haven't heard it in nearly a year.  I cannot imagine living this life, choosing to not hear their laughter. I cannot imagine choosing not to participate in such joy, such love.

Do you miss it?   Do you even remember what it sounds like? Do you remember their voices at all? You surely haven't heard the younger two really talk like they do nowadays. Do you long for that at all?

The children are mine now, they're fully, legally, mine.  It makes me furious that you didn't so much as attempt to fight for them a little.  But there isn't much that I can do about it.  I sure did try everything I could think of.

I just want you to know that we are doing okay.  No, we are actually doing pretty good, all things considered.  Our children miss you, sort of.  They don't miss you like they used to.  One has all but forgotten you as a real person and you're only a man in a photo she knows she should like, because the boys do.  But one of those boys... well, I'm not sure he would be able to spot you in a crowd, though he looks daily, and know who you are.  I suppose that's a way to protect his heart.  The oldest one, well, he makes up stories about you, combined from his memories and what he wishes to be true. I let him.  I won't take that from him, even though it pains me to listen to it, knowing it's just fantasy.

Really though, we are doing well.  While some days are harder than others, every day, we smile, we laugh, we hug, we play, we dance, we sing, we cuddle, we create memories.  We have each other, even if we don't have you.

I hope you're well.  I pray you'll find your way.  I hope to see you again someday, knowing full well that I may not.  Only time will tell.

I may write you again.

Sincerely,
The woman still bearing your last name

For Him

This weekend at church, I accepted prayer... Lots of prayer. Prayer for healing my shattered heart among other things.

Following, I have had such a sense of relief in my burdens. I have felt peace like I haven't in quite some time, and my focus has gone less from my pain and struggles and more toward other things. 

Luke 6:27-28

Tonight, as I prayed, which is something I am trying to improve upon, I broke down weeping. I wept not because of my future ex-husband, but FOR him.

For him... Because I realized, again, that I still love him. No, not romantic love, but the difficult love that God calls us to have for those the world justifies that we should hate.

I wept for him because, despite all the reasons I could be justified to hate him and wish damnation upon him, my heart cares about his soul and his salvation.

Because even though he's shattered my heart, I still have that glimmer of hope that he will someday draw near to God. Maybe he won't restore his relationship with his children in this lifetime, but I am working hard to raise children of God that will spend an eternity in heaven, and I cannot help but hope that their dad can make it to heaven, too. 

...Because it's the right thing to hope for, I think. I can't imagine not hoping for a miracle. I cannot help but hope he will find God, cast away the dark and wrong paths he has chosen, and follow God down the right road. I cannot help but pray he will be saved.

I know that is likely going to be seen as wildly unpopular, but truthfully, it doesn't bother me. The world can think I am crazy, but God has sustained that glimmer of hope, that shred of faith, and tonight, it just tore my heart right up.

Sharing is Caring

Dear Jacob,

A week ago, I had to take a class on sharing your children with the other parent when your marriage ends.  It was an informative night, I suppose, but as you can imagine, it was pretty emotionally charged for me, and I had to dampen my emotions with every ounce of my being so I didn't start sobbing like a fool in a court room filled with people.

I listened for nearly two hours to why it's so important for children to have both parents in their lives, from holidays to extracurricular activities to vacations to weekends and so forth and so on. Over and over I listened to kids on a video talk about how their parents management of a divorce or separation affected them negatively, and why it's of the utmost importance for the parents to share the kids, be civil, be fair, and be loving.

There was one statement in the entire two hours that covered the fact that if you just don't have two, one good parent is good.

I sat there, shelled up inside myself, my mind raced with memories of us and our kids, and of our relationship the last year or so.

It reminded me how blindsided I felt when you wanted a break from us. Sure, we had struggles, but we didn't fight and name call and bicker and beat each other, especially in front of the kids. If we did have a fight, it was generally over texts anyway since you wouldn't answer the phone and you were always "at work." Yeah, I can picture a couple we would have in our room while the kids were all sleeping, but for the most part, our time together was civil even if it should have been heated.

So I listened to these children and their stories of how the parents fought in front of them or about them and how wretched it was. And, I felt out of place. And I also felt a bit thankful our kids didn't have that experience.

But more than anything, I sat there wondering why... Why you don't want to share these children with me.

 Why don't you want to have a part of our children's lives?! Why don't you want to call them?! Why don't you want their hugs?! Why don't you want to hear their laughter?! Why don't you miss them?!  

I would give so much to share them with you. I want to share them with you! I want you to pull your head out of your dark place, get some air, and start showing up. I want you to care about their birthdays, their Christmases, their hospitalizations. I want you to want them. And I want to know why it appears that you don't.

What did we do to you? What did the world do to you that makes you run and hide? You do know that we wanted you in their lives. I wanted you in mine. I just wanted you to be accountable and responsible. I wanted to meet your boyfriend instead of you sneaking the kids around him and his family and lying to me about dating him. That was a responsible, adult request.

Instead, you disappeared. You seemingly vanished. It makes no sense to me.

I have always wanted things to be civil and friendly for the kids. I was so furious with you the last day we saw you, July 1, 2015, because you didn't so much as check in when our one-year-old was hospitalized. But I set it aside for the kids. I was smiley and had fun and made memories with you all. Because I am an adult and I know it's important for the kids. I don't need some class to tell me that and beat me down.

I pray you come back. Clearly, something inside of you is broken or ill. I pray for your healing. I want to share these children. That was the plan for LIFE. You're not dead.

Also, I miss you. Even when we were separating you promised me friendship. You were my best friend, for FOURTEEN YEARS. That's almost half our lives. And in those years, we hardly went days without contact. It's been months. I try to be strong always and to move on and let you go and not feel this gaping hole in my life where you used to be, and I try to fill it up with Jesus and surrender it all to Him so He can fill me up, but sometimes, like today, I just miss you with unbridled ache. You were supposed to care about me, too. I miss the man you were when you did, or when you pretended to, or when you loved me. 

Always praying for you,

Nicole

We get along... better.

Last night... I think it was last night, it might have been this afternoon, but I'm pretty certain it was last night... It was!  It was after Jake was gone a few hours using wi-fi to job hunt...

Wow.  Talk about a lack of real introduction.  Hi. I'm blogging.   I decided to just jump right into babbling without a "typical" Nik-esque introduction.

Okay.  Last night, after Jake was job hunting, he came home, and said something to the effect of, "You know, one good thing about this unemployment problem is that we get along a lot better now."

I looked at him quizzically.  He said, "Don't you agree?"

I continued to look at him in a questioning manner. I really had no idea what he was talking about!  I mean, yeah, we have had our share of disagreements and not getting along in the past, but it's not like we've been at each other's throats, on the verge of divorce, or anything that I considered to be a big deal. I definitely didn't feel like we haven't been getting along.

So, I asked him to clarify.  I forget his exact words, but basically, he didn't quite mean getting along as in not fighting.  He meant, in a roundabout way, that he thinks we enjoy our time together as a family more now.

To that, I must say, I did agree.

When he began his unemployment right after Collin was born, it was rough.  I admit I have been stressed and worried about rent and bills every single day since then, but I do try not to let it eat me alive.  I try to focus more on the good things that are going on around us.  Yeah, I still cry and worry, but I am not letting it make me bitter.  And, he isn't either.  Somehow, we're still hopeful.  We're praying and holding on and getting through.

But, with all the focus I've been putting on freaking out (silently or not so silently at times), I haven't focused on the wonderful as much as I could and should have.  

Did I say that already? Probably?  I am not scrolling up to read.

We had to cancel our cell phone service a while back when they started to overcharge us due to a plan upgrade on Jake's that they were carrying and insanely trying to charge me for, which was unfounded and we couldn't argue out of it with them... so we switched to pay-per-month type phones (with the help of friends the first month).   Mine's off for now until we have funds to spare, but we're keeping his up and running for job purposes.  With that, we lost internet (because our phones were our internet), and without internet on our phones, games weren't as fun, we weren't surfing the net, YouTube-ing, what have you, nearly as much.    We were more involved in the world outside our phones.  Not that we were neglecting our children when we had our smartphones or anything like that, but they of course took more focus away from the kids.

Now, we don't have those distractions.  We have some still, a nook, limited internet, movies, books... but they're not as "easy" to access or get sucked into.  So, we spend more time playing with the boys, talking to each other, etc.   We're more present in our little family unit.

We listen better, I think, now too.  For example, for years I have HATED when there would be random bits of clothes left around.  We had this problem for nearly seven years.  And now, after we really talked about it and why it bugs me so much, it's very rare I find socks or shoes or whatever it may be lying around on the floor.

I won't bore you with many more examples.

Summary: Jake is right.  We do "get along better" now.   Granted, he will (hopefully REALLY soon) have a job again and be gone more, and we won't be together nearly as much, but I think this stretch of spending SO much time together has really done us good, and I think things will carry on in a positive manner.  I think this financial brokenness has built us up in our relationships.  A blessing in "disguise."

Almost Due.

It's almost April 18, 2012.

That wonderful Wednesday, my youngest sister will turn 13. Man, that makes me feel old!

That same Wednesday, last August and September, was slated to be our due date with Baby Sprout.

I can so clearly recall how "perfect" we thought that pregnancy worked out to be. I mean, really, being due on my sister's special birthday!? It was AWESOME. I for one, had prayed about it constantly since I calculated what that date would be, just asking God to allow it to happen. When I tested positive early morning on Sunday, August 7, I was shocked with disbelief, but through the roof with excitement. We told my sisters about the baby that morning already, we were so overjoyed!

And, as life would turn out, we lost Baby Sprout in the middle of September. Grieving and healing from the loss of the baby was a huge process to me. It was overwhelming for days before I finally could make it hours without crying. And over the weeks, and months as my body healed from my D&C, my mind started to heal as well, with the prospect of trying again for that second birth.

A sidenote: Sometimes, I get confused as to what to call Baby Bo. Is Bo my third child? Or is Bo my second child? I opt to say second child because it's less confusing for everyone else. Second child, third pregnancy, perhaps?

Anyway... On December 12, 2011, I tested positive again, and was cautiously optimistic and excited with the "perfection" of this pregnancy as well. As I had calculated that due to be August 26, 2012, which was just days after Jake's twin and his girlfriend, one of my best friends, were to be home for a wedding from Alaska. It seemed another pregnancy too "perfect" to be true, and for weeks I was scared of the same fate. Jake and I relish every movement (even if they wake me, or if Bo seems to be trampolining off my bladder during a 2.5 hour car ride) that we feel, knowing that Bo is alive and growing and gearing up to meet his/her family.

Now, I'm 21 weeks along, with an adjusted due date of August 19, 2012. We, again, are beyond overjoyed at the idea of bringing a sibling into this world for our wonderful son.

When I got my memorial tattoo for Sprout in November, it really helped me to find peace in the situation. Never once was I really mad at God (as I shared in a group not long ago at Operation Prom Dress), but I was frustrated, sad, and disappointed that it all happened. But then, it was like a release. Letting go of the sorrow as much as I could, I guess, and moving on to what lies ahead.

And I don't think I've cried over the loss since.

Until last night. Out of nowhere, it seems. I guess I was thinking about what the date would be next Sunday, when Jake and I have plans, and how my sister's birthday is only a few days after. And then I realized.. that was our due date. If that pregnancy had gone well, I would be due any day now. Or maybe, just maybe, we'd have already met Sprout. Maybe we'd know if Sprout was a boy or a girl. Maybe... And I got to wondering if Sprout was our son, or our daughter. I feel like the baby was a boy, though of course, there was no way for us to know.

I started sobbing. I told Jake that in over a week and a half, Sprout would have been due to be born. It was so overwhelming.

But, of course, I realize I am already over halfway through this pregnancy with Baby Bo. God gave us this gift, too. And this time, God willing, we've been able to progress smoothly, and God willing, will be able to meet our son or daughter in 19 or so weeks.

While it doesn't take away the loss, it helps to cope, some, I guess. But I'm torn. It's hard to be sad about the child we lost while we are getting ready for another child, now. But, Bo will never replace Sprout. Bo is just the given we were given after Sprout left us. And it's okay to be sad, I think. It's okay.

I'm not going to let it bog me down. I'm not going to dwell on it and take away from my sister's birthday. I decided if I wrote out how I feel, maybe, once again, like it did right after the loss, it will help me cope and move on. So, here's to that prayer.

It's been almost 2 months together.

Let's just be honest. I haven't blogged much lately. Not for lack of things to blog about, mind you, I've had a ton on my mind. In fact, as much as I would say I need to de-clutter the computer desk, I feel the need to de-clutter my mind, as well. Hopefully over the next few days (or weeks...) I can write it all out and find some more peace inside that chamber of thoughts.

Why haven't I blogged? A few reasons. The first is that I've been busy. I haven't been on a bunch of exciting or awesome vacations (though, I have visited my parents and siblings a few times), but rather, Spencer keeps me pretty occupied. And with the unseasonably nice weather we've been having, I've been trying to get us out and about (whether in the yard, or parks, or play dates), and not just hanging out in the living room all of the time.

And also.. I am EXHAUSTED. I remember being tired when I was pregnant with Spencer, and I had a job and all that, but hey, I feel like at least then, when I was super tired, I could rest. Now, my resting is dictated by a 17 month-old who just doesn't see the need to rest himself. Ah well.

We've been spending time with my cousin, who is also one of my best friends, during small chunks of the day a few days a week, as she comes over for lunch (she works blocks away).

Oh yeah, and I'll admit, I've been reading the Hunger Games triology. My husband purchased them on the nook, and we've both been reading them. I must say, while I'm not a fan of a lot of murder/death/gruesome reading and science-fiction stories... I'm somehow hooked anyway. I can that about the "Ender's" series, as well... books I was hooked on (of the sci-fi genre), that I never would have thought I'd become hooked on.

Anyway...

Although I was super comfortable in bed (for once) and nearly asleep, my neighbor and her boyfriend decided 9:45pm would be a good time to start an argument, so... I forced myself out of the bedroom and to the kitchen, where I now find myself.

Voila. A blog post.

It's not about anything weighty, or many of the subjects that bog my mind down and keep me awake, but rather, about the last two-ish months of being a stay-at-home-mom.

My husband asked recently, in summary, if I like being a SAHM and want to keep doing it.

Despite some reservations about the "gig," I told him I certainly would, as long as I am able to.

I love it. I do, but it's not always an easy "job" to love, I will admit.

Sometimes, I get really lonely feeling. Not for lack of having a lovable (and loving), chatty, busy-body with me in the house. But, as much as Spencer talks, and says actual English words now, and will hold a "conversation" with me, it's not the same as having adult interaction. Thank goodness for my cell phone (texts are my favorite), and Facebook. Shallow sounding, maybe, but it's true. I'm very grateful for those luxuries.

Fortunately, though, being a SAHM has given me time and opportunity to cultivate and strengthen friendships with a couple of my other stay-(or work-)at-home-moms that I know. It's been such a blessing to have time to spend with them. Whether it's via text message, email, Facebook message, like I said, which makes it very easy to keep in touch at all hours of the day, or play-dates with them and their sons, it's a treasure to Spencer and I both.

One thing that kind of caught me by surprise was the idea of "getting a lot done" around the house... not... so... much... happening. Not for lack of ambition (well, sometimes), but moreover, it seems that every time I start picking something up or organizing it, I have a little "helper," who I always seem to think is adequately distracted and won't notice what I'm doing. I'm generally wrong. Half of the time, it seems as soon as I start washing dishes, even though we won't have been playing or interacting, really, he will run to the kitchen and wedge himself between my legs and the cupboard and push me away from the sink. Or.. if I throw things away, he finds whatever he can find to throw away too.

And let me tell you, getting laundry done is not as easy as I had imagined. I never really saw the "need" to have main floor laundry until I started staying home with Spencer. Our laundry area is in the basement. Occasionally, say, if Elmo is "babysitting," I can sneak away to get it done. But, usually, I do NOT trust Spencer, nor Wendell, for that matter, to be alone, free, upstairs.

I don't really trust Spencer to be buckled into his high chair, and unsupervised, either. He's some sort of wizard, I swear.

I know, I should force myself to stay awake at every nap time and scrub the house and wash and dry and tend to the laundry, but as I said before, I am exhausted! I didn't realize that being pregnant with a toddler running around would be so tiring. I don't mean that to sound as a complaint, just a realization of my naivety on the matter.

I also didn't realize how hard it would be to sneak away to the bathroom to do my business... alone. I think he's got some sort of radar for that. I can't tell you how many times he's come barging in (because I don't always get the old, sticky, warped door latched all the way) with his shape sorter. Or if the door is shut completely, someone likes to pound and scream at me.

But, it's not all bad. Not even close, so don't let me fool you into thinking that.

I LOVE being home with Spencer. I loved working outside the home with him, too, of course, but there's something to be said about being able to wear your pajamas or comfortable pants (because I'm getting bulbous) all day if I want. Or to literally, not change him out of pajamas (or re-clothe him) on rainy days when I know we won't be leaving the house.

He has always been somewhat of a "night-owl," even as a newborn, and being that we don't have to be anywhere at a certain time, most days, it's okay with me that he stays up until nine (though I really prefer him to be asleep way before 10), and sleeps until eight... or nine.. or ten... thirty... in the morning. I don't mind not having to get up at 6:30. And, it affords me time, currently, to see my husband on the mornings he is home before work. I will admit, though, it's odd to not have to get up to wake him (either him, actually) in the morning.

I love that I can be attentive to Spencer, solely, as a child. To watch him intensely, as he develops skills, learns words, and uses his creative mind. He's just an unbelievable creation, to me. I tell Jake often that "I can't believe we made him." (Of course, thanks be to God, who had a very large hand in it.)

I love the freedom to visit friends, or family, during the week, if we so choose, and it works out for them. I love not having to cram errands into a half an hour chunk of time in the evening on the way home.

I love being able to relax and enjoy my role as a parent, as frustrating and exhausting as that can also be.

So, overall, I'd say it's been a pretty great two months. The first weeks, two or three, were a breeze. It felt like a vacation. The few weeks after, where the weather was kind of crummy and I was beside myself trying to figure out what to do, how to stay sane, how to continue interaction with others, and how to keep him entertained... were harder. But, I think after that, we've started to figure out our routine, a balance, and a way to make things work.

Of course.. soon enough, it's going to change again, and again, and probably again. But more on that another night. The neighbor is quiet again, and I'd like a snack before I fall asleep.

Jacob

My husband is my best friend. He has been one of my very best friends since shortly after we met in 2001. I never dreamed, then, that I would marry him. But, God blessed me tremendously by giving us the love, choice, and commitment to enter into a life-long marriage. Yes, it will be life-long.

When we were dating, we began discussing the possibility of being married, as well as that of starting a family together. I was straightforward and honest, telling Jake that I just didn't know if I would be able to bear children. I really didn't know. I knew something was up with my reproductive system, and I thought it'd be nearly impossible. (Two years ago, I was diagnosed with PCOS, you can read about that in the "infertility" category if you'd like.) He stuck by me anyway, knowing that chance existed, and just telling me we'd cross that bridge when we got there.

We've been married for 5.5 years now. We have a 15 month-old son who is one of the lights in our world (I would say God, our marriage, and Spencer (and the coming baby) are the main three). We were married for 3.5 years or so before he was conceived, after we consulted a reproductive endocrinologist. I am pregnant (somewhere between 11-13 weeks (the baby is measuring almost a week ahead, but for now, they're not changing the due date) again, with our third miracle. We lost our second miracle at 8 weeks in September of last year.

Jacob is a fantastic provider. Yes, we go through our struggles financially, not always being on the same page with things and being disorganized occasionally, but he has taken the reigns to sort those things out. He is a hard-working man. He works crazy long days (13-16 hour days 4 days one week, 5 days another) in all weather conditions, even when he's sick sometimes. He is great at his job, and has won us trips across the country for being one of the top in sales. He's amazing. He does it to make our lives possible, really. I am guilty of whining at him that he works too much and doesn't spend enough time with me or with Spencer, in the past. I have tried so very hard to look at it from his perspective, in that he works to give us the means to survive. He works FOR us. And he's right. But, sometimes I'm emotional and somewhat selfish wishing he was home more. I feel like I have been better about that over the last year or so than I had ever in the past. Though, sometimes it's hard.

And he's excellent at keeping me from feeling too bad about it. Yup, we've fought about it, but we really both do understand where the other is coming from and we work hard to make it work in all aspects.

But not only does Jake work his job well, but he's an excellent father.

Seriously.

I always felt he would be a great father, but seeing him growing with Spencer in his father-role is phenomenal. It takes my breath away sometimes. I get goosebumps. I get tears. I just want to watch them from behind a two-way mirror so they can't see me, so that I can just take in the beauty of their relationship.

I'm Spencer's mother. He needs me. We have a close bond. I love him more than I love myself admittedly (whether that's good or bad is up for debate, I guess?). He cries when I leave him, though not for long, and he gets excited when I get back.

But, I feel like daddy is his favorite. And that makes my heart sing.

I love that Jake plays a little concert for Spencer during bath-time, and sometimes during bed-time, and sometimes after waking up in the morning, or after nap, or in the middle of the day randomly. I love that he can throw Spencer up in the air, catch him, and I am not afraid that our child will get hurt. I love that he took Spencer sledding a few weeks ago. I love that he reads to Spencer. I love that they play ball occasionally. Or go on walks. Or swimming.

I love that Spencer just loves to do everything and anything (well, mostly) with his dad.

Jake's father role melds beautifully into his supportive husband role. Really. Ever since Christmastime when I developed intense sciatic pains down both sides that literally kept me bed-ridden for almost a week, he has been "super-husband-dad" at night. Because it was so painful for me to move and I couldn't really get up on my own anyway, he just automatically took over night-time duties with Spencer. If he would cry, Jake would be out of bed to tend to him. And, for the most part, Jake still is. He doesn't complain about it, either. I think that maybe he continued to do it because now that I'm pregnant again, I am completely exhausted and I don't sleep well anyway, nor do I fall asleep again very well if I have to get up out of bed. And, I've been sick for a few weeks, too.

Or maybe, he does it because he just loves to see our son. I know that Spencer sleeps best if Jake is the one who gets up with him when he wakes (it's usually only once, if at all nowadays), and I think it's because then he knows that his daddy is home. I don't know.

I know, I am totally spoiled. And, I will admit, I take it for granted and I do not thank my husband enough for it.

He has ALWAYS helped change diapers. In fact, more often than not, if he is home, I don't have to change more than a few a day. He's never complained about having to change a poopy diaper either. In fact, he has always laughed or given commentary all the way through the process. He makes me smile.

Not only that, but even when I was nursing Spencer (way back when he was tiny), Jake would get up occasionally to help with feedings, so I could steal an extra half an hour of sleep and not have to get up every two hours. And then, when we switched to formula, he willingly worked out a night-time shift schedule with me, so we could take turns getting up with Spencer. I know dads who rarely, if ever, get up with their child in the night. Yes, like I said, I am spoiled. Or blessed, if I want to be positive about it.

Jake also makes sure whenever it's possible, that I get time for me. I give almost all of my time to Spencer, and when I'm not solely focused on Spencer, I'm trying to take care of the house, my work outside the home, the dog, and myself. So, Jake gives me time to relax, at home, or away, depending on my needs and his and Spencer's interests at the time. In fact, he is most often the one to suggest I get that personal time. It's another blessing.

He tells me I am amazing. Frequently. And, recently, he has started giving me detailed explanations and examples of why he thinks that is so. Those mean more than I can measure.

And... finally, the most recent and huge thing that Jake has given to me, to our children... and really, to our marriage, in a way...

is the opportunity that started at 3:30 or so this afternoon.

I am now a stay-at-home-mom. I don't know how long it will last, because, well, you just never know what curveballs life will throw at you. But, I do know that every minute, every hour, every day, every week... that I am able to focus on raising our children alone is an immeasurable blessing. It's largely (almost entirely, I feel) possible because of my husband. The role he's taking in managing our finances and providing income. The role he's taken on as protector and leader of our family, both financially, and spiritually. The fact that he is determined to make our lives the best that it can be.

Truthfully, the issue of being a SAHM was brought up by him first. Up until I was pregnant with Spencer, it was something I never really wished for, or dreamed that I would want (as I mentioned in this blog post a few weeks ago). And even then, I was terrified to wish for it too hard, because my puny little mind just never thought it was possible. But, a month ago, when he suggested it might be possible and perhaps we should try it, I was amazed. I was overwhelmed with the realization that it might actually happen.

And, it has.

Because my husband, Spencer's father, is who he is.

Thank you, Jacob, for all that you've done- for all of us.

Take these six strings and make them sing.

When I was younger, I wanted a guitar. Badly. I think I asked for one at least four Christmases in a row, before my parents were ultimately amazing and gave me one my junior year (I think) of high school.

Why did I want a guitar? Well, when I was growing up, for Labor Day weekend, every year, we went to my parents' friend's farm, for two or three days, and at night, there was a guy, or two, or three, depending on the night and the year, who had his acoustic guitar and people would gather by the bonfire as he played and others sang along. Every year, he'd play "American Pie" by Don McLean, and every year, there'd be mass confusion as to the verses. (I will admit, I know them all and in order...)

It inspired me. I wanted to be like Mike (that's the main guitarist for the campfires of 'yore.. haha).

So, my parents gave me a guitar, and I took it upon myself to learn to play.

An embarassing tidbit: When I first picked up the lesson book, it told me something to the effect of "place your finger on a string next to the fret, but not touching it." My critical reading skills at the time were... lacking, and I placed my finger between the strings, next to the fret, not touchign them, and would get pretty frustrated when I'd try to pluck a string to get a really "pingy" yet airy noise... but don't worry, I figured it out shortly after.

Over the course of a few months, I taught myself to play guitar.

Fast forward. I met Jake. And he played guitar, too. *swoon*

Playing guitar, whether it'd be me alone, Jake alone and for me, or the two of us together, has been a very substantial part of our relationship (in fact, our first "official" date was at Falls Park with both of our guitars. We took pictures (and I can't find one anywhere to show you, go figure, but they do exist))...

...up until a year or two ago, when I nearly stopped playing altogether while I was pregnant with Spencer.

Yeah. I can't claim that I'm proud of that.

Last night (Sunday), Jake asked me if I would play guitar with him. I said yes, half heartedly, as I have been any time I agree to do so lately (which isn't often). Why halfheartedly? I wish I could pinpoint that and give a precise answer, but, I can't. I think it has something to do with the fact that I can't get my fingers to properly form a bar chord, or an F, or any variation of an F, or a B...

And, honestly, sometimes I get frustrated playing guitar with Jake, because, in my opinion, he is exponentially better at it than I am. Kind of how he would feel about having a mascara application party with me (not that we have ever done that, nor do I believe it would interest him at all...)- a bit inferior, possibly.

Whatever the underlying reason, I haven't been all that "into" playing guitar for quite some time.

But, because I wanted to spend quality time with Jake, and do something he would enjoy, I agreed.

The first half of our playing together was Jake trying to teach me songs that he knew, while I tried to figure out what chords he was playing by watching him, or he occasionally called them out to me. It was alright, but it wasn't the best time I'd ever had. Though, I will admit, any time Jake plays guitar, or I play guitar (I have a few times since SJ was born), it is the CUTEST and most wonderful thing to see Spencer dancing to the music, or "singing" as we play, or even... *gulp*... trying to HELP us play our guitars (and mind you, Spencer has FOUR of his own guitars). I get goosebumps and practically cry every single time.

While Jake was giving Spencer a bath, I pulled up to the computer, opened the "guitar chords" bookmark folder I had compiled before getting pregnant, and opened a few windows to display songs I used to be able to play from memory and have long since forgotten. Truth be told, if you were to ask me which songs I could play from memory now, I think it'd be... "Time of your Life" by Green Day, and "Wonderwall" by Oasis. Yeah, it's that bad.

But, wouldn't you know it, as soon as I saw the chords for "2a.m. (Breathe)" by Anna Nalick, I picked up right where I left off so many months ago, and belted the lyrics out, playing at my original pace, with my original strumming, like I hadn't missed a day playing that song.

Then, I played and belted out a little "One Sweet Love" by Sara Bareilles. Yup, that one was "good as ever," as well. Huh.

I played a few more while waiting for Jake, including learning a new one "Paperweight," by Schuyler Fisk and Joshua Radin, and after Jake put Spencer to bed, he joined me in front of the computer, and we took turns pulling out a song from the folder, playing it together, and singing. Just like old times.

And it was WONDERFUL. I kick myself for taking such a long break in playing with my husband, and for being such a poo about it when I would play.

Truly, the highlight of our "open mic night" in the kitchen, however (and I think he would probably agree) was when we pulled up "Poison and Wine" by the Civil Wars. I don't remember that we'd ever played it together. I know I book marked it when I first heard the song hoping to learn to play it and sing it with Jake (it's a beautiful duet), but I don't know for certain that we ever had before.

But, when Jake started strumming the rhythm, and I joined, and he sang, and I followed... and then we sang the harmony together... it was FANTASTIC. I am not saying we were the best performance anyone could have heard, and we might not have been even "good" in some opinions, but it felt PERFECT. It sounded symphonic, even without other instruments. I felt like we had stopped time and were holding onto an everlasting moment.

I enjoyed it so much, I asked Jake to do it again.

We played a few more songs, until my fingers felt like they might bleed, and my arm was only playing my "wussy version" of a Bm every time it came up in "When You Come Back Down" by Nickel Creek (Jake played everything, and I only strummed the Bm) and I laughed myself to silly tears.

I woke up this morning, though, still giddy about our concert together last night.

I hope I can hold onto that feeling, and get back in the groove of playing again. I wouldn't want to lose that something special that Jake and I have, after all.

Truth be told, an acoustic version of most any song nearly always ends up being my preferred style. Random tidbit for you.

And, here's a few more "guitar-related" significances from my friendship/courtship/marriage with Jake.
- the first time he ever came to my house, he played guitar, and I have pictures

- he learned to play my favorite song "Name" by the Goo Goo Dolls, and performed it when he randomly surprised me at my parents house

- he learned to play my other favorite song "Crash Into Me" and debuted that at the aforementioned Labor Day gathering in 2003 (I think) in front of a ton of people

- he once came to my parents house and played guitar under my window to serenade me (but I wasn't in my room and had actually run up to the post office and then stayed downstairs until I thought I left my radio on and realized he was in my backyard...)

- he and his best friend broke my first guitar wrestling, and so they chipped in and replaced it and gave it to me for a 4th of July present in... 2002 or 2003. I have it on video.

- our first "official" date

- I gave him a 12-string guitar for his 21st birthday

- we used to play guitar and sing in the racquetball courts at SMSU late at night

- he wrote me a song and performed it for me at open mic night on my 21st birthday

- I wrote him a song, and my friend got it on a webcam video

- and others... but my fingers are cramping.

(PS: I took the photos I included in this entry, so please, don't be taking them.)

A Perfect Heart.

Last night was a bit of a scary night for me.

I went to bed around 11, after getting Spencer back to sleep.

Then, I woke up around 12:20 to the strangest, most intense pressure in my chest. It felt like my ribcage might actually shatter if I moved. It wasn't a stabbing pain or shooting pain or anything like that. It hurt, but it was mostly pressure. I tried best I could to wiggle around and change positions, but nothing was helping.

So, I text my husband a handful of times and tried calling, but assuming he was asleep, I got up and started to "research" it online.

Never a good idea, really.

Most things I found were pointing toward a possible heart-attack. I didn't feel like (not that I'd really know, I guess) I was having a heart-attack, but I was definitely concerned because the pressure was relentless. I toyed with the idea of calling the 24 hour nurse hotline for Sanford... and after telling myself it'd be best to have an idea whether or not it was life threatening, especially since I was home alone with my baby, I gave the number a call.

I spoke with the nurse, who was very kind and helpful, for about 20 minutes. Based on my description of the symptoms, and my lack of erratic heart rate, sweats, breathing difficulty, she told me it didn't sound like a heart attack. I was very relieved to hear that from a medical professional. She gave me a few options of what it could have been: heart-burn (weird, right?), a delayed reaction to my D&C, a reaction to the birth control + Metformin regimen I am on currently, or some underlying heart condition that could point toward an oncoming heart attack. She strongly urged I see a doctor within the next 72 hours, the sooner the better, just in case.

I tried to sleep after that, but it was very difficult. I kept thinking, even though I didn't feel like I was at risk of dying last night, that if something did happen, Spencer would be alone, hungry, soiled, upset, and cold. Or if I did need to call 911 due to increased severity, who would take care of him? If I had to drive to work the next morning, what if something happened to me and we got in an accident and he died?

The pressure lasted over an hour and a half.

Yeah. Late nights, as I've mentioned, aren't always my thing.

Jake ended up calling, and I cried my fears to him and talked to him a while, and eventually, around 3, fell asleep until SJ woke me at about 3:45. Then, I had a hard time sleeping again. I am not sure I got more than 3 hours "quality" sleep last night.

This morning, I made an appointment, and this afternoon, visited my doctor. After a review of my night's symptoms, blood draw (which took 3 stabs, because the technician forgot he had to fill two vials, so he switched arms, and couldn't get any blood from that arm, despite probing and moving the needle, so he went back to the first arm), an EKG, and 2 X-rays, it was decided that my heart was in perfect (or near perfect, as close as it can be, I guess, so she explained) condition. My doctor was very impressed, and I was quite relieved.

So, we discussed possibilities. I suggested my thoughts on an anxiety issue, but she said she wasn't certain that was the case, because of my lack of breathing, heart-rate, sweating, and anxious feeling while it was happening. She decided that it would be treated as stress-induced silent (acid) reflux for now. I am told I should take Zantac before bed for the week, but if it bothers me, or gets worse, to come in again next week to revisit other possibilities.

I explained to her the various stressors in my life lately. The miscarriage and emotions dealing with that. The lack of sleep I feel I'm getting. My husband's ever-grueling work schedule and his absence at home. My uncle's passing. Spencer's teething and mommy-neediness. My feelings of lack of safety in Sioux Falls at night lately. Etc. She asked if I felt depressed. I answered "no." I don't feel like I am depressed, clinically, as one would say. I have been emotional lately, but she agreed that is necessary with all that's going on. My sleeping habits haven't really changed much (I haven't been getting much sleep for a year now... haha), my enjoyment in hobbies hasn't. My appetite hasn't. My sense of faith hasn't. Stuff like that.

But, I do agree that I'm stressed out. Probably unhealthily so, lately. I feel like it's hard not to be when I feel like there's so much on my plate.

Either way, reflux or anxiety, I'm stressed.

I understand her concern about putting me on anti-anxiety medication without ruling out other possibilities, especially since in two months or so I hope to be trying for another baby. It makes sense to me. And I don't want to be on them if I don't have to be. So, I appreciate her concern and desire to rule out other options.

But, I will admit, I am not completely sold on the silent reflux diagnosis.

I guess we'll see.

The Power of a Song.

First, let me say that I made it through today, a week exactly since learning of Sprout's birth into Heaven, with less tears than I anticipated that I would have shed. Granted, it started out pretty rough, from 1:30am until about 4:15am, but the majority of the day, I was pretty calm and collected.

I did have an emotional time at Bible Study, which I was "brave" enough to go to, despite some hesitation and barely having any homework done, but having a wonderful table leader and friend in Kyla, who has been a big support during all of this, definitely helps. But, I made it through that with less hardship than I anticipated, too. God is good.

Today, I was driving to Barnes and Noble in search of God and in search of courage (that's where I did what little Bible study homework I finished), and I realized that for the past four or five days, I have been listening mainly to one song on repeat in the car. Jake had left his Sanctus Real CD in the car last week, and there was one song in particular that really caught my heart.

Here are the lyrics:

I wanna know why pain makes me stronger
I wanna know why good men die
Why am I so afraid of the dark but I stray from the light?

I wanna know why You gave me eyes when faith is how I see.
Tell me, is it easier to doubt or harder to believe?
Oh so many questions stiring in me.

[Chorus]
And I'm wondering why.
Sometimes the truth ain't easy to find.
I want to know all the answers, but I'm learning that;
These things take time, yeah
These things take time.

How can success make us feel like failures?
And the harder we fall the harder we try
The more I have the more I need just to feel like I'm getting by.
Oh so many questions in one short life.

And we spend so much time
Chasing our tails
Hopin' to find
Every last answer
To everything in life.
So many questions
Not enough time...


We all want to understand why;
Evil lives and good men die
On the way to Heaven the truth unwinds.
These things take time
These things take time
Yeah, these things take time.

I got to thinking about how I seem to have a pattern of finding a certain song or two for big events in my life, and they end up being played on repeat as I cope with hardships or exalt in joy. A few of the songs on the "soundtrack of my life" as I decided I would refer to it as, are "Martyrs and Thieves" by Jennifer Knapp, from my camp days, "If I Am" by Nine Days, from high school. "Name" by the Goo Goo Dolls, from my high school days. "Crash Into Me" by Dave Matthews, from falling in love with Jake. Those are just a few. I could go on and on, but I won't.

But this song, "These Things Take Time," that's the one I'm playing now. I, being human, want to know WHY this has happened to Jake and I. I want to be able to be done grieving and to be healed NOW. But, I won't know why, and I have to accept the fact that I can't just instantly be okay with it all. That's a short bit on why the song is so meaningful to me.

I feel like I'm starting on the upward climb toward healing. I feel moreso now than over the past week that I will get through this, with God and with Jake both beside me. I need them both, and I am not ashamed to say it.

At Bible study tonight, we were discussing how Satan attacks those who are strong in their faith and who are standing for the Lord. Part of me wonders if that might be part of what happened here. Jake and I conceived Sprout after joining a church, finding a faith family, and after I, personally, feel stronger in my faith than I may ever have in the past, that I can recall, anyway. And then, this tragedy strikes. But, instead of blaming God or being angry at God, or blaming myself, I decide to pray to God and take up at his side to help me get through it. In many other struggles I've gone through in my life, that wasn't the case, and I found myself trapped in powerlessness and sadness, numb to God and numb to myself, for quite an extended period of time. Reflecting tonight at Bible study really gave me hope that I am going to get through this, more easily than other traumas and tragedies and rough times in my life, even though, by far, I think this the saddest, darkest season I have had to face thus far.

That's reassuring.

And I know I've said it before, but I will say it again. I am so blessed by the support, encouragement, and prayers of my family, my faith family, and my friends.

Yes, tonight, I am still sad. I will probably shed more tears over our lost child. But, they aren't tears of hopelessness. And when I wake up in the morning and drive to work, I will hear the current track of my life soundtrack, and be reminded that it's okay to be where I am, to grieve how I grieve, and that I WILL be okay.

Sorry if this was mumbled and jumbled. I am exhausted.

Girls Day

Today was the first time in a long, long time, that I had a day with a girlfriend, just us. Rena and Nik. No baby. No husband. No need for me to be home at a certain time. Just the day to do whatever we pleased, together.

It was crazy odd to have that feeling of freedom.

It was awesome, too. Simple and wonderful.

We went to church together, followed by brunch, where we sat and joked around and laughed like goofballs. Then we walked around the falls. After, we went to Barnes and Noble for a while, then stopped at the Pump'N Pak for soda, and ended up back at my place, talking, laughing, reminiscing of our time together at Augustana College, and all the goofy stunts and pranks we pulled on a friend.

I can't lie and say that I didn't enjoy it, because I most definitely did. I needed it! I hadn't realized how I hadn't had a day like that in forever, until we were nearly halfway through our time together.

Not that I'm complaining about having the responsibility of an infant. I'm not. Nor am I complaining about having a husband. I love them both. I love spending my days with them.

It was just... different. And wonderful.

Thank you, Jake, Spencer, and Rena, for giving me that breath of change for a day. I love you all.

Get a grip on it.

For the past few weeks, I've been feeling a little more overwhelmed and stressed out than usual. Part of it is being exhausted, I think. Spencer hasn't slept through the night in WEEKS, which is so odd, and somewhat frustrating at night, considering he had been for well over a month up until he started cutting his teeth, and then it's just been back to the old ways, up at least once a night, sometimes up to four times. Ack!

I think that having Jesse and Sam move also didn't help, but I am much more at peace with them being gone now. I definitely miss them, though, that's for sure. They've only been gone a full week! How crazy is that? It feels like weeks have gone by since I said goodbye to them at the airport. I think the fact that they both got cell phones right away, and a mailing address, helps. I've been able to at least correspond with them every day, and on Wednesday of this last week, we had a family Skype date! Jesse and Samantha in Alaska video chatting with Spencer, Jake, and I in South Dakota! It REALLY helps bridge the distance. We're going to have another date tomorrow afternoon. Hopefully, I'll be more awake this time (so will Spencer, less crabby, I'm thinkign). I already sent them two letters, and received one. And, it's barely over two months until we get to be in the same room as them again! So, yes, I'm feeling better about them being so far away, though, I do miss them dearly. It's very different without them being a part of my evening plans during the week!

Lately, I've also really been missing my brother, Bryan, who is in Kuwait. He called over a week ago, and I didn't get to answer, so I didn't get to talk to him. I have his voicemail still saved, thankfully, so I can listen to it when I'm thinking about him. I'm praying constantly that he's safe!

Fortunately, though, I have been able to spend multiple nights in the past week with my darling cousin and best friend, Tarah (yes, I have about 7 best friends, and I think that is totally okay). She's helped me battle the loneliness and stress by just being around, helping me with Spencer so I'm not frazzled when he's screaming at me because he wants a bath and I'm in the middle of something, for example. I've also got an amazing husband, who holds me when I need it, and tries his best to make my every day wonderful. He loves me. And that's awesome. And I have many other friends, too, who will listen when I need it.

I must say, I am also really blessed with the church family that we've become a part of. I know I have many friends there who are always willing to say a little prayer!

Spencer and I have spent about 3.5 hours at parks over the last two days, covered in dirt, sand, and fresh air. It's been wonderful. I LOVE how he gets excited to walk barefoot in the sand and leads me quickly around in circles. I always wonder where he's taking me, and it's usually... nowhere in particular. But it's fun. He loves throwing sand and getting it in his hair. For now, that's okay. We'll work on it when he's older.

Enough babble. Time for SJ's bath.

Reuniting soon!

This coming weekend is the 2nd Annual "Leora's Family Gathering!" I, for one, am quite excited about the event.

My grandmother, Leora, passed away in 2007. Last year, I planned the reunion on her birthdate. It was significant to me to have the first "official" summer-time family reunion, since her passing, be on her birthdate. It was a birthday party, too, after all!

Growing up, on my mother's side of the family especially, I went to a lot of family reunions. Fosters, Flesners, Shellums, and then Webers, too, from time to time. There may have been a few more, but those were the ones that were held every summer. As a kid, they were fun, and boring at the same time. I mean, we got to run around like little hooligans at my great-grandpa's farm for one of them, and then sit around a small-town community center and try to behave at another, for example. But, we were there, as a family, almost every single year. I can't even recall how many reunions I went to. The best part, I think, is that we always went with my mom's sisters, brothers, and their children.

As a child, my cousins and I (on my mom's side especially) were very close. A lot of that was because the majority of us lived in the same area, southwest MN, and my grandmother had her children over very frequently. Most of my summers were spent with my cousins, going to the pool, camping in backyards, having sleepovers at our houses, raking leaves and making mazes with them, playing at the park near my grandmother's house, and so many more exciting activities. Truthfully, my cousins were some of my closest and dearest friends. I think we were all VERY blessed to be able to say that.

We are so very fortunate to have the parents we have and the grandmother that we had that helped us form those bonds, memories, and lasting sense of the value and importance of family!

As we got older, we grew apart a bit, in distance especially. We're spread out all over, and now we're all busy with things going on in our (mostly) adult lives. (I say mostly, because most of us are adults now.)

That doesn't keep us apart, though!

Even though my grandmother has passed away, we, as a family, think it's still very important to keep the value of family at the forefront. So, last year, I took it upon myself (with a little help from my cousin) to plan that reunion. But, instead of it being a "insertlastnamehere Family Reunion," I decided to call it "Leora's Family." See, a last name isn't as important as belonging to a family, and whether all of her family members are blood or legal relatives, they were definitely a big part of her life.. of all of our lives. For example, even though my parents are no longer together, my dad is still a part of Leora's family. Also, we invite family members who were from the other "branches" of Leora's family, say, her sisters children, other second cousins, my mom's cousins and aunts, for example.

Like I said, I feel very blessed to have the family that I have.

So, this coming weekend is the 2nd Annual "Leora's Family Reunion." It's not over her birthday weekend this year for a few reasons, one being that it's father's day weekend almost every year, and that makes it hard for planning, and second that my aunt, uncle, and their children from Washington state were coming to the area during this particular time of the summer this year. I decided that having it on/nearest her birthday wasn't AS important, because it's still focused on her family and our relationships that she gave us.

I'm so excited. I have, literally, been looking forward to the reunion since I left last summer. My husband wasn't able to attend last summer because of work conflicts (that he managed to work through this summer, hallelujah!), and I was still pregnant with Spencer last summer. So, this summer, I won't be traveling by myself (okay, I guess last summer I did bring Wendell with...), and will have both Jake and Spencer with! It's Spencer's first reunion! Yeah!!

Despite a little situation with the original location (where we had it last year), the planning has been basically effortless and carefree, which is also a blessing. My family is very flexible and willing to bring whatever they can to make it a spectacular time, so it's a potluck event, outdoors, at a park. Yeah, it's going to be hot, but it's going to be wonderful!

I love being able to sit and reminisce, tell stories from the past, and laugh until we cry. I love watching my aunts and uncles interact. I love spending time with my childhood best friends, my "gang" (a nice gang), and seeing how we've all grown so much, gone through so much, and who we've become. I love watching my cousin's children playing in the grass and in the dirt, getting into the food, making messes, laughing, crying, and running around. And OH MY GOSH this year I have a child too!

I love having my camera around, just in case I, or my sisters, or my husband, or my aunts, decide to "stalk" family members, taking photo after photo until they notice us and stick out their tongue or block their faces with their hands.

I hate saying goodbye.

But I love looking forward to the next year's reunion.

Ah! I am EXCITED.

Another Unsent Birthday Card

Today is a day filled with bittersweet joy.

Today is my husband's first Father's Day! It fills me with excitement to be able to proclaim that. I love watching Spencer and Jake interact. For example, although Spencer was up late last night, it was adorable (beyond words) to see him fill with such happiness as Jake walked through the door. He sat on Jake's lap, all up in his face, basically, smiling and talking and reaching out to him for quite some time. He was purely elated that his daddy was home. I wouldn't trade that for anything!

Though, as often has happened in my lifetime, Father's Day Weekend falls in accordance to my Gma's birthday. And, as is the case now, she is no longer with us on this earth. Today, in fact, is her birth date.

Most years I am internally burdened by sadness and continued mourning at this loss of one of my best friends. Last year, I threw a family reunion on her birthday, and it helped replace some of the sorrow with joy.

This year, as I dwell on the new life and fatherhood in our household, I am going to make a conscious effort to dwell on the joy of the "old" life that once walked the earth beside me and focus not as much on my loss (though it is inevitable at this point that I still will from time to time), but on the fact that my Gma was the best of friends, and that she would be exuberant to celebrate her birthday alongside Jake's first Father's Day.


When I woke up this morning, thinking of my Grandma, Brad Paisley's "When I Get Where I'm Going" popped into my head. That song, most definitely, reminds me of her.


Yeah when I get where I'm going,
there'll be only happy tears.
I will shed the sins and struggles,
I have carried all these years.
And I'll leave my heart wide open,
I will love and have no fear.
Yeah when I get where I'm going,
Don't cry for me down here.