A little bit of perspective & a whole lot of grace

Another year has come and gone. I can't even believe it.

This year my husband and I both started new jobs that we absolutely love, we celebrated one year in our new home, welcomed a beautiful baby boy into our family and received the overwhelmingly joyful news that I am now completely cancer free.

While this year has been filled with some of the most wonderful things, we have also faced many struggles. I'll spare you the intimate details of our struggles and just simply say that there have been many many tears and many nights I have spent on my knees.

One of the most difficult struggles I faced this year was learning how to be a mom of two.

I was blessed to be able to take a full 12 weeks off for maternity leave & be home with my kids. It was overwhelming, beautiful, chaotic, and unforgettable. It included many phone calls & text messages to dear friends asking for support, prayer and a listening ear.

There were days I counted down the minutes until nap time and days we ate lunch at 10AM so nap time came sooner some days than others. There were days when I was sweeping the kitchen floor for the 17th time and thought 'tomorrow we're having ice cream sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and dinner'. And so, some days we did. There were days both kids would be screaming and I wasn't dressed or showered nor had I brushed my teeth or even had a chance to pee and all I could do was laugh to keep from joining them in their temper tantrums. There were days I struggled with postpartum depression so bad I would stare at my beautiful baby, knowing deep in my heart that I loved him, but felt nothing. There were many many days I felt like a complete failure as a mother.

But then there were moments. Seemingly ordinary moments in those long, and sometimes miserable days, that reminded me why being a mom is the most beautiful gift. Like the moment my very busy toddler crawled up into my lap and asked me to read her a book and sat still long enough for me to smell her hair and kiss the nape of her little neck. Or the moment she said her name for the very first time. Oh how sweet were the moments she would run up to me while I was doing the dishes or folding laundry and wrap her little arms around my legs and kiss my knees and look up at me with her big blue eyes and long eye lashes and say "hi mama!" before quickly running off again to play. The moment she whispered "Amen cheeseus" for the very first time after our bed time prayer. Or the moments just before she would drift off to sleep that I would whisper into her ear, "You're my favorite girl in the whole wide world", my heart aching a little more each night as I realized my little girl was turning into a little lady. 

The moments I was woken up in the middle of the night by my sweet boy who I got to hold and kiss and snuggle. Moments that reminded me of how lucky I was to have someone who needed me, and who I needed just as much, if not more. The moments I watched his face light up as his big sister kissed his forehead and patted his belly. The moment he smiled at me for the very first time. The moment I knew postpartum depression no longer had a hold on me and the floodgates of my heart opened and love poured out and hasn't stopped pouring out ever since. The moments he falls asleep on my chest. The moments he wraps his little fingers around mine. The few and precious quiet moments we spend together that I pray over him and the man he will some day become, and the woman he will some day love.

Yes, those moments are what it's all about. When I didn't know how I'd make it one more day, one more hour, or one more second, those moments kept me going. When fear and worry overwhelmed me, I remembered those moments. When that little voice inside my head tried to tell me 'you have failed', those moments whispered, 'you are doing something right'.

I believe what keeps me going is a little bit of perspective & a whole lot of grace.

I am not a perfect parent, but I serve a perfect God.

On this Christmas day I celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. My Savior. My King. Abba. Father. Friend. The giver of grace. A whole lot of grace. Without you, I couldn't do it.

The love I have for my children cannot be put into words. I cry often just thinking about them. My heart aches I love them so much. And to think my Father loves me so much more. I am so unworthy of such love. But I am so thankful. So so thankful.

Jesus, thank you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for choosing me. Thank you for choosing my kids.


To my beloved Callie Ann, whose name means 'the most beautiful' & my handsome Jax William, whose name means 'God has been gracious'--my heart beats for you. Thank you for serving as daily reminders of Gods perfect, beautiful grace. I am so so proud to be your mama.


Lord you've been so good to us this year. Help me be a better Mom, sister, wife & friend in 2014. And as usual, keep the grace coming. XOXO
 

Motherhood: What no one told me (but I wish they would have).

Well, it's offical. I survived my first year as a Mom. Holy cow. What a year.

As I carried my one year old up to bed on the night of her birthday the tears I had been holding back all day came pouring out. I held her in her room for several minutes just whispering, "thank you Jesus, thank you, thank you, thank you...Mommy loves you so much...thank you Jesus". I kissed her sweet chubby cheeks and placed my nose on her forehead, inhaling deeply, taking in what was left of her baby smell. I laid her down and covered her precious little toes painted rosey posey pink.

I walked back to our bedroom trying to compose myself. I couldn't. My heart was aching. Birthday's are supposed to be days of celebration, not heartache, I kept thinking. The year flashed before my very own eyes. From the moment I found out I was pregnant, to the moment I first looked into her eyes. The first smile and the first tear. The first laugh and her first word. Then came the guilt. The moments I had chosen anger over patience. Frustration over grace. I could have been a better Mom, I thought. I cried harder. My husband approached me from behind and threw his arms around me. "What's wrong babe? What happened!?" he said truly concerned. "I'm sad", was all I could get out. He spent the next hour trying to convince me that watching our baby grow into a little girl was a good thing. I still cried myself to sleep.

The first year was hard. There are so many things I would have done differently (and will do differently the second time around). There are things I wish someone would have told me about being a Mom. Then again, I don't think I would have truly understood any of it if they did. So for all my soon to be mom friends out there, this is for you. And for my mom friends who have successfully survived the first year, this is for you too.

Motherhood: what no one told me (& I wish they would have)

1. The Newborn Stage might seem like the death of you, but really, it's (fairly) easy 

You heard me right. That whole never ending vicious eat-sleep-poop-repeat cycle is easy. Your baby sleeps 10-18 hours a day? No, your baby does not have some weird sleeping disorder. Nothing is wrong. It's a gift from God. EMBRACE IT. And you know that advice everyone keeps giving you to 'sleep when the baby sleeps'? It's not just a suggestion. Your sanity may very well depend on it. So, what about that load of laundry piling up on your bedroom floor? Or that long to-do list you thought you'd tackle while home on maternity leave? It can wait. It must wait. Sleep. Stare at your baby. Smell your baby. Snuggle your baby. Wear your baby. Enjoy your baby. Because some day your baby won't be a baby any more.

2. It gets worse before it gets better

It's amazing what a lack of sleep will do to a person. I dreamed of having kids for as long as I can remember. My friends called me baby crazy. I always have been. So when the moment came to finally take our baby home it felt like all my dreams were coming true. But the second night we were home with our daughter I looked at my husband and said, "are you sure we shouldn't have given her up for adoption?" [insert hysterical crying here]. Thankfully, a few days later I looked back on it and laughed hysterically, appalled that I would even think, let alone SAY such a thing. You will think lots of outrageous things (although hopefully unlike me, you won't actually say them outloud). You will wonder if you're cut out to be a mom, you will wonder if you will ever get the hang of it, you will wonder if you'll be able to provide your child with the best, you will wonder why God chose you and if it was a mistake. You will wonder a lot. In those moments, take a deep breath, close your eyes and tell yourself you can do this. God didn't make a mistake. He chose you. And He knows what He's doing.

3. Don't be afraid to ask for help

no, SERIOUSLYYYYYYYYY. You know that old saying, "it takes a village to raise a child"? you'll finally understand the meaning of that saying when you become a mom. I'd like to know how we ever got away from living in villages with all of our relatives there to lend us a helping hand anyway. You are not meant to be alone on this journey. It's ok to feel like you have no idea what you're doing, because let's be honest, you don't. Please friends, do not be afraid to ask for help. Every mother in the world understands that sometimes you just need a break. Or a 5 minute nap. Or a cup of coffee. Or to get out of those sweatpants you've been wearing for 3 days. Or to get a shower. Call a neighbor. Call a friend. Call your mom. Really, it's ok.

4. You may have inappropriate reactions to certain things

You thought your pregnancy hormones had you on a rollercoaster? Oh, girl. Let me tell you. TLC's A Baby Story will now become a potential trigger for full blown meltdowns. You wanted chocolate ice cream and your husband brought you vanilla? You've become the next participant on WWE--and your husband can surely prepare for a smackdown. The baby is crying again and you break into spontaneous laughter? It happens. Be prepared for a wide variety of emotions. And just know, you're not crazy. Despite what your husband may tell you.


5. Don't shake your baby...or your husband/partner

Even though I felt fairly 'prepared' to be a mom, (HA-HA!) those first few weeks every time my daughter would cry I began to panic. Oh my gosh, what do I do, how do I make it stop!? Your mind will be on overdrive all the time. You will barely be able to remember to change your underwear let alone remember what day of the week it is. Therefore, I found it helpful to follow these simple steps when trying to figure out what baby wants: #1 check baby's diaper. If it is wet or poopy, change it. #2 feed the baby. #3 burp/rock the baby. If none of these things work, ask your husband for help. When, inevitably, he has no idea what to do, think outside of the box. You can try taking the baby outside for some fresh air. Take the baby on a car ride. And when all else fails, you can call your mom. (refer back to #3)

6. Don't forget to love on your husband/partner

Let me clarify. There are MANY different ways to love on your partner. Sex is out of the question for at LEAST 6 weeks, doctors orders. If you are one of the brave few who dabble in the waters before then, I salute you (or do I pity you?) Either way, try to remember how baby came into existance. I know we'd like to think we didn't need the help of our husbands/partner to create such perfect little human beings, but we did. It's true your life now revolves around baby, but before you were a Mom you were a wife (or a girlfriend). Don't forget it. Take time for the two of you. AWAYYYY from baby. This may seem impossible for the first few weeks (or if you're anything like me the first 365 days of your childs life). But trust me when I say you need to keep the spark alive. So go ahead and put away those granny panties you've been sporting for the last 10 months and break out the lacy stuff. (Still rockin' that post-pregnancy bod of yours? No problem. Put on your most slimming outfit and spray on some sexy perfume). Your partner will thank you.

7. Don't compare yourself to other moms  ((or pinterest))

This may be the MOST IMPORTANT thing I tell you. You will come accross all sorts of different ways to parent. Attachment parenting, co-parenting, authoritarian parenting, nonexsistant parenting. Breastfeeding, bottle feeding, supplementing, donor milk. Organic diapering, cloth diapering, buy-whatever-is-cheapest-diapering (my personal favorite). To vaccinate or not to vaccinate? (seriously, why is this even a QUESTION!?) You will see/hear/read a LOT of different things on how to be a mom. What your great Aunt Betty used to do 'back in the day' may not be sensible anymore. Just because your mom let you sleep on your belly doesn't mean it's best practice. Just because so-and-so did this or that and he-or-she "TURNED OUT OK" does not mean YOU have to do it. Do not succumb to peer pressure. Do what works for you. If that means taking your placenta home from the hospital, throwing it in the frying pan, grinding it up, encapsulating it and taking it with your scrambled eggs and bacon at breakfast, then go for it. (Sidenote- I have big plans for the placenta of baby #2).

And all those wonderful, happy photos your friends are constantly positing on instagram and facebook of their picture perfect lives? (Guilty as charged). Honey, don't you think for one minute that there aren't skeletons in her closet. Or a pile of clean laundry sitting in there that hasn't been folded in a week. And was rewashed 3 times before that because she forgot to move the clothes from the washer to the dryer. Let's face it, it's easier to let the pile of clean laundry secretly sit in our closet than air our dirty laundry to the world. And that's ok. Just don't go thinking you're the only one who doesn't have it all together. None of us do.

8. Some days you will feel like a complete failure

There will be days you simply don't want to be a mom. Yeah, I said it. There was a period of time I was lucky enough to experience what it meant to be a full time stay at home mom. Prior to this experience, I seriously wondered what all my stay at home mom friends did all day. After all, I worked 40 hours a week, came home, cooked, cleaned, and did everything (I thought) stay at home mom's got to stay at home all day and do. THEY were the lucky ones, I thought. All THEY have to do is stay at home and play with their kids. HA! Oh mama's, forgive me. A few months home with my little one was a swift kick in the ass and an unforgettable lesson in humility. If you are a stay at home mom (or dad!), I salute you. Talk about how a parents job never ends. Or should I say JOBS. You are not only Mom. You are a cook, and a maid, and a chauffeur, and an entertainer, and a nurse, and a waitress, and a million other things. 24/7. That can take a toll on a person. I remember some nights going to bed thinking, if something were to happen to me or my child before tomorrow I would never forgive myself for the less-than-perfect mother I was today. When you have those moments, ask God for forgiveness for today and grace for tomorrow.

9. Other days you will feel like you're actually doing something right

If you have managed to keep your child alive and the house has not burned down you're on the right track. Sometimes it's the small victories we must celebrate. Embrace every smile. Every giggle. Every hug. Every kiss. "The trick is to enjoy life. Don't wish away your days, waiting for better ones ahead. The grand and the simple. They are equally wonderful." --Marjorie Pay Hinckley

10. Love hurts

I'm not talking about that highschool break-up heartache. Or getting a B on your final exam instead of an A despite studying for days on end heartache. Or the heartache you felt when you lost your childhood pet. No, none of it compares to what you're in for now.

I read a quote once that said, "Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." The moment I laid eyes on my daughter I knew I would do anything for her. And I mean anything. It's not just because I'm her mom and that's what moms are 'supposed to do'. No, it goes deeper than that. 

The moment I saw her a part of my soul left my body and entered into hers. In the same moment part of her soul left her body and entered mine. It was this beautiful exchange of soul-parts that has forever changed me. I will forever be connected to her in an eternal way.

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)

I am never without it (anywhere I go you go, my dear;

and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling)

I fear no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet)

I want no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)

--E.E. Cummings 

I never understood this poem in high school English class. I get it now. 

Watching your child grow into a little person is one of the most amazing and painful things you will ever experience. You'll cry...a lot. Happy tears and sad tears. At times you won't know which is which. But one thing is for certain, you will never be the same. 

If I could sum up my first year of motherhood in one sentence it would be this:

"There's no way to be a perfect mother
and a million ways to be a good one"
--Jill Churchill

So take a deep breath. Embrace the little one inside of you. (Or outside of you). Thank God. And when times get tough, keep thanking Him. Because you've been given one of the greatest gifts of all. You've been given love. And it'll just keep growing and multiplying from here.

Welcome to Motherhood.

The Perfect Parent

I feel the need to clear the air. Not just for myself, but for every single mom out there.

Here's the truth: We have become sucked into a pinterest crazed, green & chemical free obsessed, pro-breastfeeding, anti-formula culture. Here we have been made to believe that if we don't provide our children with elaborate nursery decor, don't use cloth/chemical-free diapers, and don't breastfeed, that we are somehow less than perfect parents.

Don't get me wrong. I dig pinterest. I use it to get lots of ideas, from what to cook for dinner, to ways to decorate my home. But let's be honest. We do not live in a cookie-cutter perfect world. We cannot give our children over-the-top nurseries, birthday parties, clothing, etc ALL THE TIME. Our homes will probably never look like those on the pages of better homes and gardens (okay, MAYBE when the kids finally move out, but still it won't be for a long time. a very long time.) And how many DIY projects do we actually ever attempt? I mean let's break this down for a second. DIY stands for Do It Yourself. How many of you mom's actually EVER get time to do anything yourselves!? And when you do, how many of you actually use it to do arts and crafts? That's a negative. You will find me sprawled out on whatever surface is available to take a nap on.

And in terms of being green & chemical free? Honestly, there are things I care more about. It's just not something I'm passionate about. In no way do I purposely expose my daughter to known chemicals or carcinogens, I just don't feel the need to research every single fiber of her clothing to determine whether or not it's harmful in some way or another.

Which brings me to my last rant: Breastfeeding Vs. Formula. I am ALL for breastfeeding, IF that is something YOU desire to do. But don't try to tell me I'm wrong for giving my child formula. There are lots of women out there who desire to breastfeed and for one reason or another can't. So if you are one of the lucky mom's whose boobies decide to cooperate and produce enough milk to satisfy your baby, and you somehow manage to work through (or avoid) getting blisters which leave your nipples cracked and bleeding, then kudos to you. Seriously, it is NOT easy. I don't care what anyone tells you.

My house is a mess 99% of the time, despite spending 2-3 hours each morning cleaning it. My daughter's room looks like we just moved in yesterday (even though it's been almost 4 months) because there are boxes of clothes everywhere. There are no special decorations or pretty pink paint on the walls.

We use disposable cheap off brand diapers. Not once has my daughter ever had diaper rash. In her almost 9 months of existence. EVER.

I breastfed for the first month exclusively, and for two months off and on after that. My supply sucked. I called the lactation consultant at the hospital I delivered, I called my local La Lache representative, I searched the web, I joined Breastfeeding support groups online, I called breastfeeding guru friends.  I took fenugreek, I drank GALLONS of water a day, I ate oatmeal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I had blisters. Multiple blisters on each boob. Bleeding, cracked, sore blisters. Blisters my baby was sucking on. I did everything in my power to do what I could to provide what everyone was saying was "best" for my baby, and at the end of the day, it wasn't enough.

As a Mom you will forever think you know what's "best" for your child. But what's best for your child, may not be best for someone elses, or for you.

I am a good Mom. I am not perfect by ANY means. But guess what? None of us are. Pinteresting the crap out of your home, using cloth diapers, and breastfeeding your baby does not make you the perfect parent.

As Moms we compare ourselves to those around us. We want to be able to stand out, or at least fit in. We need to start ENCOURAGING those around us, rather than putting them down.

I'm not a perfect mom, but I have a perfect daughter. I have a HAPPY daughter. And that's all that matters to me.





Dedicated to all the Mom's out there who don't feel like they're doing anything right. Look into your babies eyes. You did that. You created that. Now breathe. You are doing just fine.

The most beautiful journey.

Elizabeth Kubler-Ross is most famously known in the nursing world for identifying the 5 stages of grief--denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I can't imagine what possibly possessed this woman to embark on a journey to determine the different stages of grief, but for whatever reason she did. It couldn't have been easy, as anyone who has engaged in a research project knows the best way to obtain data is from the primary source. This means that in order to truly and accurately understand the grieving process, Ross sat and listened to detailed accounts of others insurmountable suffering, loss, and anguish. 

We all know what it's like to experience those raw human emotions. Suffering. Loss. Anguish. At times they engulf you. Make you feel like you're drowning. And permanently change you. 

I've considered sharing the journey of the last year of my life for awhile, but it's taken me this long to come to the final stage of grief and reach a place of acceptance. 

Junior year of nursing school was miserable. It was hard and long and I wasn't sure at times if I'd make it out alive. I relied on a core group of friends who laughed, cried, complained, and endured the journey right along with me--and thank God for them. We had all heard from upperclassmen that if we could just get through Junior year, there was light at the end of the tunnel. They said Senior year was mellow and that we could finally engage in 'normal' college student things. Normal. That was the world I clung to. Senior year was going to be normal. 

That was until I was diagnosed with Graves disease, which they thought might be cancerous. And I found out I was pregnant. And I suddenly lost my grandfather to kidney failure and cancer.

it was the week before my final year of college started. i wasn't feeling so hot. as someone who had always enjoyed being active, I suddenly became lethargic and weak. My heart began racing and I developed a sharp stabbing pain in my lower abdomen. I decided to go to the doctor. They drew blood, I peed in a cup, and they asked me a bunch of questions. They said they'd call me in a few days with the results.

Two days later and still no phone call. My symptoms got worse. Something was really wrong. I made another doctor's appointment hoping that if they didn't have my results they could at least do something to make me more comfortable. The doctor came in and ask how I was feeling. I told him it was worse. Severe fatigue, lethargy, lack of sleep, restlessness and a heart that never seemed to slow down.  He told me they had the results from my tests. I felt relieved.

"Your blood tests came back and we have some major concerns regarding your thyroid, and with your extensive family history of thyroid problems including cancer, we would like you to be seen by an endocrinologist as soon as possible". Don't panic, don't panic, I tried reasoning with myself.  All I heard was the word cancer. "You think I have cancer?" I asked, my mind racing. "We aren't exactly sure what's wrong just yet, but it is a possibility. Until you are seen by a specialist I can't tell you otherwise".

Panic set in. I'm sure my heart was beating so loudly that the patients sitting in the waiting room could hear it. I tried to focus on my breathing and calm myself down. It's ok, I can do this. Don't panic. Don't panic.

"I have other news", the doctor continued. "Your urine pregnancy came back positive. We're concerned that you've been having sharp lower abdominal pain. It could indicate that the pregnancy is ectopic, in which case you need to be seen by an OB today"

The two words bounced off the inside of my skull. Cancer. Ectopic pregnany. The room spun.

I had always imagined the moment I found out I was going to be a mom would be the happiest moment of my entire life. But this was far from the happiest moment of my life. This wasn't how I was supposed to find out.  Not sitting in a doctor's office, alone, petrified and feeling so uncertain about my future, or that of my unborn child's. 

I didn't cry that day. Not at all. I was too overwhelmed. Numb. Shocked. I would wait for more tests to be completed before deciding whether or not to break down. I had told myself I was not going to say anything to anyone until I had  more factual information, but all that went out the window when I came home and was greeted by the man, who is now my husband, and to whom I told everything. He hugged me and I withdrew immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asked me. "Do you love me?" I asked him back. "Of course I love you" he said reassuringly. "No, do you really love me? Like do you want to be by my side forever? Through the good and the bad?" I asked in an accusatory tone. "Yes, Danielle, I do. Why are you acting so weird?" I told him the news. He had to sit down. I'm sure some of the first words out of his mouth were words I would never want my child to repeat, but after a few moments of shock he looked at me and said, "I'm going to do everything I can to provide for you and this child. I want you to know I'm not going anywhere. I love you, both".

The days and weeks to follow are somewhat of a blur. All I know is that it felt like I went to a different doctor every other day. 

I had extensive blood work and scans done of my thyroid. I was told there were multiple nodules found that could potentially be cancerous, but that they would continue to monitor them to make sure they weren't multiplying or growing in size. In the meantime I was put on medication to control what they had termed Graves Disease--an autoimmune disease in which your body attacks your thyroid. The doctor told me the medication was so potent that the baby only had a 50% survival rate within the first three months. Anger. Shock. Numbness. They consumed me. 

The next day I had an ultrasound of my uterus to investigate the abdominal pain and confirm the pregnancy. I went to an OB who had been practicing for over 20 years and delivered too many babies to count. She was supposed to be one of the best. She flipped through some papers in my chart. "According to this ultrasound report there was nothing found." Her comment hit me like a mac-truck. Ry and I looked at each other as if we were both dreaming. "What do you mean nothing was found?" he asked her. "I mean she's not pregnant" she responded rather confidently. "How sure are you that she's not pregnant?" Ry asked. "Oh I'm 99% sure".  She walked out of the room. 

I couldn't hold it in any longer. The tears flooded down my cheeks. Sobs burst from deep within me. This is not happening, this is a joke--I kept telling myself. I couldn't pull myself together. I didn't know what to feel. A part of me was relieved, but the other part of me was broken. I had been told there was this life inside of me, and now days later I was being told such a thing never existed. 

The doctor walked back into the room. She looked confused as I sobbed uncontrollably in the arms of the man who was desperately trying to find the right words. "Is...everything...okay?" she asked. I stopped crying. I looked up at her with snot running down my face and shirt, and tears which had smeared my perfectly good eyeliner and mascara. "No, no everything is not okay. One week ago I was told I had this life inside of me. And now you, you just took it away from me!" I shouted at her. She handed me a box of tissues and left the room. She came back a few minutes later and said she wanted to take blood to see if my hCG (pregnancy hormone) levels were elevated. She said she'd call the next day to let me know the results, and again assured us she was confident I was in fact not pregnant.

I went home, crawled in bed and called my mom. I had every intention of holding myself together but there's something about a mom's voice that makes you feel so vulnerable. She answered and I just started to sob. "Honey what's wrong? Are you okay? Where are you?" the panicked voice blurted out on the other end. "I...need...you...to...come...home" I sputtered out. "I'll be there in 20 minutes" she said.

When I asked her later on what she was thinking on her drive home she told me she was sure I had received a diagnosis of cancer. So when I buried my head in her chest and told her I might be pregnant it was the last thing she ever expected. But she held me, and kept holding me. She just kept telling me it would all be okay. 

The next day I got a call from the OB. I was pregnant. That same day the endocrinologist  called with results on my thyroid. Not cancerous. 

denial. anger. bargaining. depression. i bounced back and forth through the first four stages of grief multiple times that day. and would continue to experience them over the next few months. 

I sit here now, cancer free, with a beautiful healthy baby girl who only had a 50% chance of survival kicking me in the ribs as if to say, "Mom, I'm a fighter, just like you". 

The struggles my husband and I have faced over the past 9 months are many. Too many to talk about. And some, too painful to bring up. Going to a Christian school, being un-wed, and being pregnant is not something I'd wish upon anyone. Some days the looks I got felt as if they'd kill the child inside of me. But God is good, and He has faithfully walked by my side.

When we found out we were having a little girl we were thrilled. We knew we wanted to name her something unique and special, after all at one time we thought we had lost her, then we got her back, were told she could still not make it, and is now just a few weeks away from making her debut. She has already endured so much and although she isn't quite here, I'm such a proud mom. 

The name Callie came to me and it just kind of clicked. I called Ry and asked him what he thought. "Callie, my little Cal girl. It's her."  She's never been anything different since. It wasn't until someone asked me what her name meant that I looked it up.  Callie: "the most beautiful". tears streamed down my face. i knew God placed that name in my heart. 

every night before i go to bed i tell Callie she is the most beautiful. when people stare at me as if i've made some horrible mistake i remind myself this precious little girl is the most beautiful. when i want to give up, i remind myself of the most beautiful gift i've ever been given. 

this journey has been filled with suffering, loss, and anguish. i have circled through the stages of denial, anger, bargaining, and depression over and over and over again. although i've come to a place of acceptance, i realize i could still experience those things. but that's okay. because on this road marked with suffering, i have been given the most beautiful ending, and yet another beginning, to my journey.

Elizabeth Kubler-Ross's research proved to be right after all. I experienced each and every stage of grief she described. But perhaps there was something more to what she was trying to discover. Perhaps her real interest wasn't in watching people suffer, but watching them grow and be changed by it. Perhaps she realized sometimes the most painful journeys, are the most beautiful. 

Dedicated to my daughter, Callie Ann-- you are the most beautiful. I'd endure all the pain in the world on your behalf. You are such a gift and I'd do it all over again. I cannot wait to hold you in my arms.  I love you.

“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.” --Elizabeth Kubler-Ross 

The man on the radio.

My alarm clock went off at 5AM. I hit snooze knowing I had a mere 5 more minutes to rest before I had to crawl out of bed and go to a job I was less than thrilled about. Don't get me wrong, I've learned a lot as a patient sitter, but sitting in a chair for 12 hours straight is draining. torture even. 5 minutes felt like thirty seconds when my alarm went off again.

I laid there wondering why i subjected myself to 12 hour shifts of sitting in one spot, looking hopelessly out the window at the sunshine, almost forgetting what fresh air smelled like. then i remembered. to save money. for student loans. for my dream wedding. for a honeymoon. for life. ah, yes. i would forgo hitting the snooze button for a third time and roll out of bed all for the sake of the American dream. 

I walked out my front door at 5:45AM and was greeted by the moon. I got in my car and turned on the radio. I don't know what it is about the early mornings, but no one likes to play music on the radio. All anyone wants to do is talk. I flipped through the stations at least 5 times before settling on one.

News. "Late last night a man jumped off the South bridge of interstate 83 in Harrisburg". Depressing. I changed the station. "A man jumped off a bridge in Harrisburg into the Susquehanna river and survived". Again, really? I changed it again, aggravated. "A state trooper noticed a car pulled over on interstate 83 bridge and thought the vehicle was disabled. When he began to approach the vehicle the man got out of the drivers seat and flung himself over the bridge. He survived the 80 foot drop and is at Hershey Medical Center in stable condition".

Idiot, I thought. What an idiot. 

Did I really have to hear that story three times?, I thought annoyed. Wouldn't it be great if I had to sit with him all day! I chuckled to myself. There was no way. He would be in critical care and probably be so knocked out on pain medicine that no one had to worry about him lifting so much as a finger. After all, he jumped off a bridge. An 80 foot drop.

I went to the assignment sheet and wrote down the room number that was listed next to my name. JOHNSON 7AM-7PM, it said in large bold letters. I cringed. I headed to the elevator, hit my floor, and headed to my room. The lady who was coming off of night shift came out into the hallway to give me the low down on the patient i was to sit with for the next 12 hours. 

"he jumped off a bridge" she said.
"he what!?" i stuttered back. 

"He jumped...off a bridge" she repeated.

"he's the man on the radio" i said under my breath. 

she looked at me like i was crazy. i couldn't believe it.  

i have three things i wanted to get out of this post. 

the first: God is funny. He knew exactly what He was doing when i flipped through 5 different radio stations and all of them had that news story on. 

the second: the man on the radio isn't an idiot. he has a story. we all have a story. yours may not have ended up on the news, but you have one. and it's worth telling. don't ever be afraid to reach out and tell someone your story. life can be overwhelming, but you're not alone. call a friend. talk to a family member. pray with a pastor. 

the third:  God has a plan. for the man on the radio. for  you. for me. He's got a plan. this life on earth isn't the ending. it's only the beginning. on days you feel like this is it, like nothing else could go wrong, like life isn't worth living--remember, He has a plan. cling to it.

next time i turn on the radio i intend to listen a little closer.
turn down the tunes & turn up the news.
because somewhere out there there's a man on the radio who needs a thought, a moment, a prayer.

The girl with no name.

They all warned me about how fast it could happen. How in one moment just when you thought you were all caught up on drawing labs, flushing lines, taking temperatures, doing assessments and charting it all, that anything and anyone could come barging through the double doors and chaos could erupt.
trauma waits for no one. 

I don't remember the whirlwind of events that unfolded in those two hours that literally felt like a blink of an eye. All I know is one moment I was standing in the center of an empty hospital room preparing for the arrival of a patient and the next I was shoved into a corner and jammed between an IV pole and a med cart. I was trying to take it all in, while reminding myself to breathe as to not end up passed out on the floor.

They said it was a car accident. A bad one. So bad that others had been declared dead on the scene. There was blood. There was shouting. There was lots of movement. 20-some people rushed a stretcher into the room where I was standing. The girl lying on it couldn't have been any older than 12. Everything was being done to ensure her fate wasn't the same as the others.

IVs were started, meds were drawn, pupils were checked, total body assessments were done. I couldn't do much of anything. "What's her name?" I called out. No one heard me. "What's her name?" I said a little louder. I immediately regretted my decision as one of the doc's shot me a nasty look as if to say, "stupid extern". "We don't know her name", someone finally shouted out among the sea of attendings, residents, nurses, x-ray techs, and respiratory therapists that buzzed around the room.

The girl was clearly out of it, but moaned and moved slightly from side to side. I wanted to tell her it was going to be okay. I wanted to be the one voice among many that called out to her and gave her comfort. I wanted to call her by name. But I couldn't. Because no one knew who this girl was. And the only people who did, were no longer alive. 

It was a whirlwind. It was many things, but a whirlwind for sure. Raw, real, unpredictable, heart pumping-adrenaline-rushing, whirlwind trauma. It waits for no one. 

On my drive home I couldn't help but to think about the girl with no name. I can't imagine how scared she must have been. How lonely she must have felt. If I could have only held her hand and whispered in her ear, calling her by name, assuring her it would be okay.

"I call her by name" said the Lord. "I was there calling her by name" He assured me. "Not only do I know her name, but I know everything about her, for I created her. She is my daughter and I call her by name."

A wave of emotions swept over me. How easily I forget that there is One greater than I. One so great, He knows that which is unknown to us. One so great, He calls each and every one of us by name.

The girl with no name has a name. I don't know what it is, but I do know she is the Lords.
And He calls her His own.

"Never again will you be called 'The Forsaken City' or 'The Desolate Land.' Your new name will be 'The City of God's Delight' and 'The Bride of God,' for the LORD delights in you and will claim you as his bride."
Isaiah 62:4

God smiles when I dance in my underwear.

What moves you? 

What makes your heart skip a beat?

What makes your eyes swell with tears?

What makes you want to jump up and down like a little kid who has to pee really really bad? 

There are lots of things that move me. Babies. Sunsets. A quiet moment with the person I love. Witnessing someone go out of there way for another. Hearing unbelievable stories of survival, triumph, and victory when it shouldn't have been possible.

But there's one thing that moves me more than anything else in this world.

God. 

There are days I wake up, crawl out of bed in my underwear, and spontaneously want to worship God. So I set Pandora to my Kim Walker christian radio station and I dance. In my underwear. It's not the crazy fling-your-hair-air-guitar kind of dancing. It is not planned or particularly purposeful. It just, happens. I become moved. By the music, by the words, by the truth of God's faithfulness, love, mercy, and grace. 

I close my eyes and I go to another place. It's warm and quiet and beautiful and peaceful. I feel whole. I feel blessed. I am humbled and I am in awe. Sometimes I sing along, other times I simply smile, laugh, or cry. I can feel God smiling down at me. I think to myself, "what an amazing God I serve". it's not something you can entirely explain to someone who hasn't experienced the love of God. you just have to feel it, be moved by it. 

Majesty, Majesty, Your grace has found me just as I am,
empty handed but alive in Your hands. Majesty, Majesty,
forever I am [moved] by your love, in the presence of your Majesty.

God moves me, and I can't help but to respond. Whether that's dancing around in my underwear, following my calling to serve others by becoming a Nurse, calling up an old friend that's been on my mind, or reminding those I love of how much they mean to me, I am moved.

What moves you? Because whatever moves you, moves God. And when God sees you responding to something that moves you, He smiles. So be moved.

Go ahead, dance around in your underwear.
Make God smile.