When we first found out that we were pregnant with our 15 month old daughter. We were completely shocked and insanely excited. We had been having lots of unprotected sex and not admitting that we were trying for a baby for a while. We told no one because we didn’t want the pressure of everyone we knew asking us every millisecond if we were pregnant yet.

The second we found out we called those we loved, and the second after that, I was researching and ordering every book there was on natural birth and breastfeeding. I was so excited to do the things that my body was created to do, and I wanted to know every detail about it. I poured over pages and pages… lighting, transitioning, delayed cord cutting, music, water birth, latching, extended breastfeeding, and so many natural things you could practically hear the crunch.

I had a beautiful plan. The perfect (to me) birth played over in my mind every day I was pregnant. Ryan would cut the cord. She would be delivered straight to my chest, and I would nurse as soon as she was ready. We would rest together as a family of three moments after birth. I would day dream about what it would be like to feed my baby, to be the only one who could supply her with what she needed, what it would feel like to bond with her in that way, and the look in her eyes as she sleepily nursed her way to dreaming.

I had a beautiful plan that didn’t happen, and it crushed me.

I had read so many pages telling me that my plan was right. It was the way everything was supposed to happen. Those books encouraged against having a bottle in the house for at least six weeks. Those books encouraged to not even read about cesarean sections because that would set you up for failure. So I didn’t… and I was completely unprepared.

I truly never had one hard feeling toward anyone’s birth. I never thought that c-sections were a terrible thing, but a necessary intervention set in place for when it was truly needed, but I didn’t think I would need it.

I knew that formula was an incredible blessing. Truly. In so many countries, if a woman doesn’t supply enough milk, her baby dies. We have the assurance that won’t happen here. I just didn’t think that I would need to buy formula.

I knew that 25% of women suffer from postpartum depression. I knew about baby blues, 60%-80% of women have it. They cry for a few weeks, and I was prepared for that. I was not prepared for the darkness that I felt, and I wasn’t prepared for the crying to never stop, I wasn’t prepared to feel completely separate from my baby, and I was not prepared to not feel bonded to her at all. I didn’t think that I would ever feel the things I felt. I didn’t think that I would ever be diagnosed with postpartum depression.

The thing is. I did have a c-section. I did have to buy formula and bottles. I was depressed and there was a period of time where I could not be alone with myself or my baby.

Cesarean section’s, bottle’s, formula, postpartum depression and Prozac.

Those are things I didn’t prepare for in motherhood, but those are the things I got to know very well from the second I met my sweet pink girl.

Now… fifteen months later, after reading so many stories exactly like mine, and being friends with beautiful and strong women who had the rug pulled out from under them when someone handed them a tiny human of their own, after feeling truly healed of the depression that stole so much joy from my first year as a Mother, I feel ready to say that I survived and I am better because of it.

We are so excited to be expecting our next sweet little thing, and I feel so much more prepared because… no matter how it goes in the delivery room, or how I feed my baby, or even if my hormones get the better of me. I won’t be blind sided again, and I will not hide it again, and I will not feel guilty again, and I will stand up for myself this time.

I’m going to get defensive and sarcastic here for a second, so if you are easily offended, or don’t appreciate that sort of conversation please skip ahead, or get back to what you were doing…

Can I get an amen from the Momma’s who have pulled out a bottle and felt the stabbing eyes of women in the room around you? What about a breast is best lecture at a family function? How about from women who were confident that they would push a baby out of their vagina, and ended up with a six inch incision in there stomach? How about from those same women who got a speech about how natural birth plans are for people who’ve never had a baby? Has anyone heard that if you just have enough faith in Jesus, you won’t be depressed?

I would like to call bullshit on everyone who has ever done this and I would like to call grace for all of you Mommas who’ve experienced it. Grace for the breastfeeding Mommas. Grace for formula feeding Mommas. Grace for Mommas who had low milk supply. Grace for the all natural birth Mommas. Grace for c-section Mommas. Grace for the Mommas who scream at there kids once in a while. Grace for the Mommas who don’t spank. Grace for the single Mommas. Grace for the Mommas who home school. Grace for the Mommas who send their babies to public school. Grace to the conservative Mommas. Grace to the liberal Mommas. Grace for the Mommas with kids with dirty faces. Grace for the Mommas who dress their babies in their best every day.

Grace for all of us. Because, seriously, aren’t we all just trying to do the best we can? Don’t we all just love and adore our babies? Wouldn’t you always do the absolute best thing that you could for that tiny person that depends on you?

It has taken me months, Prozac, counseling, wine, and lots of reassuring conversations from my husband where he tells me I’m a good parent to realize… that I am.

I am a damn good mother. I love that baby in a way NO one else does and NO one else can. I would die for her. I would do anything in the world to make sure she was safe, warm, and fed. I had terrible thoughts in those first months, but I did the things that I needed to do to get better. I fought through it because whether I felt bonded to her at the time or not, I adored and loved her and she was a blessing. God entrusted her to us, and I did not take that for granted.

Now… I feel like I am coming out on the other side.

Now I am here. I made it to the point where I know when she wants water, or when she is hungry, I know when she is tired, and I know when she is missing her Poppa, I know what she is trying to tell me, and I know when she just needs me to hold her. I know her because no matter where she came out of, and no matter what she ate or drank the first year of her life… she is my daughter. She grew inside of me. I protected her for 42 weeks. I did everything that my body let me do to for her.

So I just want to say to all of you who are Mothers. I promise not to judge you. I know you are doing the best you can.

If you are passionate about breastfeeding. I understand, so am I. I will try to breastfeed this sweet baby, and I will treasure that time if it lasts a month or two years. If you are passionate about natural birth, that is incredible, so am I… you have your baby in a tub at home. I would love to do this, and maybe I will some day.

I also want to say to you opinionated people who think I didn’t try hard enough to do any of the above, if you have a lecture to give, don’t give it to me, if you have some judging eyes to pass along, keep them closed, if you don’t believe postpartum depression is real, do some research… if you still don’t believe it please be quiet because you could be the reason a woman doesn’t get help. If you think that people who truly believe in Jesus don’t get depressed, read Psalms. If you don’t think you can contain yourself… stay home.

I promise that I will do the best I can for my babies and please do the same for yours. No matter how you choose to do it.

Grace and love all around.

P.S. Ryan… I literally would not have survived this year without you. You were every single thing to Phoebe and me and I will never be able to thank you enough for that. Thank you for listening when I told you that something just wasn’t right. Thank you for never for a second holding it against me that I couldn’t do things the way that we planned. Thank you for volunteering to give just about every lecturerer and starer a piece of your mind. Thank you for loving me in a way that no one in the world has ever loved me. Thank you for being patient. Thank you for forgiving me for every thing I put you through. Thank you for teaching me to have grace for myself. Thank you for continuing to encourage me. Thank you will never be enough for what you are to me, but I will never stop thanking you. I love you the most, forever.

P.S.S. Phoebe… thank you for being the most patient spirit (after the colic passed). Thank you for letting me know that no matter how I did things, I am your Momma. Thank you for learning to hug me, because seriously… that is the best thing ever. Thank you for letting us know that you just weren’t getting enough to eat. Thank you for thriving and growing. You are beautiful inside and out already. You love people better than I do, and you teach me about love and grace every single day. Thank you for being the sweetest baby I have yet to meet. I love you darling girl. I promise I will always protect in every way I can.

We call this Leslie chicken. She has no blog or I would link up to thank her for this ridiculously EASY meal that has been thrown into our rotation. The great thing about it is that you can have all the ingredients on hand, in the cabinet or freezer.

Ingredients

Box of Stuffing

Package of chicken breast or strips

Can of cream of mushroom soup

A little milk

Directions

Make stuffing as box directs

Put stuffing in the bottom of a casserole dish

Place chicken on top of stuffing

Mix soup and a little milk

Pour over the chicken

Bake at 350 for one hour

This recipe is SO easy to double or triple and make for a bigger group of people, or to save for left overs. It’s so tasty and the chicken is so moist. We usually make a vegetable as the side, frozen green beans or broccoli. Easy meal for when you don’t feel like cooking.

- I have a new tattoo that I want whenever this little baby makes it’s way into the world. It’s gonna hurt and I’m gonna get Ryan to do it with me.

- I have a new favorite girl name for this baby that I can’t tell you yet.

- If this baby is a boy, I will be shocked, and we will name him… nothing. We canNOT decide on a boys name.

- Phoebe’s favorite word is No. Only she says it long and loud with so much personality… like a declaration. It’s hilarious. So discouraging it through laughter is tough.

- I am almost out of the first trimester. This pregnancy seems to be going so much faster, most likely because I am totally occupied/distracted by a one year old this time.

- Our windows have been open for three days and it is glorious. If I have to shut them again… I will probably cry a little.

- My kitchen looks like someone robbed us and left everything… and used all our dishes…

- I got some new awesome bright colored knives that could cut a titanium ship in half. Haha. No they couldn’t… and wouldn’t a titanium ship just sink? Who knows? Not I. Clearly.

- I am way funnier in person than when I write. Also… more inappropriate. Those are probably connected. Ha.

- My big plan for spring is to plant some flowers in our yard! Our yard is ugly, and I plan to make it a beautiful garden full of dead plants and bugs breathtaking flowers and butterflies.

 

I’m 23 and I feel far beyond that small number.

I mean… I am coming up on a four year anniversary with my husband. I have a one year old and another papoose in the oven.

I am not doing what most people my age are doing.

I didn’t just receive my college degree, I am not out on an internship, I am not partying my face off on the weekends, I am not traveling the globe, I am not out of Indiana, I’m not even out of Jasonville, I’m not a missionary running an orphanage in Africa, and really I am doing none of the things that I thought I would be doing.

When I think about the things that I am not doing that five years ago I had imagined I would be… sometimes I get sad and wishful. I think about those things and I wonder how my life and other peoples lives would be different. Would I have changed lives? Would I have saved children? Would I have met an entirely different group of people? What did I miss out on? Did I do the right thing? Who would I be instead of who I am?

Please don’t think that I regret my life, I adore my husband, my daughter is one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given, and I cannot wait to meet this new life growing inside me, but don’t we all do this? Isn’t there a voice in the back of your head stealing the joy of the moment that you are in, saying what if you had gone another way? What if you had married someone else? What if you hadn’t quit school? What if you took that amazing job that offered so much more? What if you left right now? What if you ended it all, wouldn’t that end the pain? What if you had been better, would she have stayed with you, instead of leaving for him? What if you could just not love who you love, not be attracted to who you are attracted to, would people accept you then? What if you chose a different career, would your parents love you then? What if your baby would have survived, would your whole life be different? What if…?

I don’t know what your “What if?” thoughts are. I just know you have them, and it’s okay to have them. You can ask, and you can question, and you can even be sad about it. In the end though, you can choose to wallow in that voice… or you can choose to see the absolute beauty in the life you are living. Because whether you know it or not, and whether you believe it or not. You are exactly where you are for a reason. Reasons that we might not be able to understand on this side of the veil, but I promise you that this is where you are supposed to be… and even if it’s not, even if where you are is Hell, or you know it’s wrong, or if it’s misery… He will use it. I don’t believe he is doing whatever it is to you, I think that it’s happening, and that he will use it for you and for the good of those who love him.

Crazy right? Crazy, yes.

Hard to believe? Absolutely.

True? Definitely.

It’s so hard to believe that. It’s hard for me too… because so many people just don’t deserve where they are. Does this sweet girl behind the number 146 deserve to be in a brothel, sold to multiple men a day? No. Did Jacob deserve to watch his brother be killed? No. Do any of those sweet children in Africa deserve to be taken, turned into soldiers, or sex slaves? No. Did this sweet family deserve to lose there son less than a year after they brought him home? No.

Has God used each of these tragedies to further the kingdom? Yes. To further the gospel? Yes. To save others? Yes .To bring more children home? Yes.

I also know that I will never fully understand why God didn’t stop it at the root. I don’t know why he doesn’t stop all of the evil before anyone gets hurt. I only know that he loves me. I know that he loves you. I know it breaks his heart every time any of us are hurting. Whether you love him or not. Whether you believe in him or not. Whether you follow him or not. He adores you. He created you. He thinks you are precious. He knows you. He hurts for you. He cries with you. He is ready for you.

I don’t really believe that everything happens for a reason. I do believe that God can give anything that happens a purpose. It may sound like the same thing, but in my heart. It just isn’t. He isn’t sitting in a recliner making things happen to prove a point, he is here with us, crying with us, aching with us, waiting with us, until we can see and feel the hope, reason, and peace that only he can give.

I’m not doing any thing that I thought I would be at this point in my life. Things haven’t turned out exactly how I thought they would. I will never be able to answer the “What if’s”… but I have a whole new set of those questions now. What if I hadn’t listened? What if I had done what I thought I was supposed to do, instead of what God knew I should do? I might not have this sweet family. I might not experience adoption the way I know one day I will. I might be living this exact life to reach one person… because God sees every person the same… and just one person, is worth the same to him as millions. We are his favorite, and that can be true, because his capable of loving multiple creatures with an equal passion.

As a blogger… I have no clue who I want to be.

I don’t even know if I can call myself a blogger… seeing as this is my fifth blog ever.

I do write alot. If Microsoft Word were a blog I would have a whole ton of posts.

My husband has encouraged blogging for a long time and after almost 4 years of marriage… here we go.
The sweet Lauren Dubinsky designed this sweet space for me and I cannot let it go to waste.

It’s going to take me a while to find my voice, I promise you that, but bare with me, because I have a lot to say and some of it might will be good.

(Confidence)

I don’t know where this blog is going to go… but I know who I am so I can tell you things it will entail.

1. I am in love with Jesus.
2. I am in love with a handsome, talented, sweet, endearing man who will be a big character in this here blog.
3. I am the Momma of one sweet little person named Phoebe. She is the littlest most darling little chicken I have yet to see.
4. I screw up often and I fully admit it. Hiding our flaws does nothing but hold us back.
5. I am passionate about orphan care and adoption.
6. We are striving to live a more simple life.
7. I am working every day to get healthier.
8. I love attachment parenting… but for our family it does not look like I thought it would.
9. My husband is a youth pastor we have been at the church we serve at for two years.
10. I am constantly learning… and I don’t plan on ever stopping.

Whoever you are reading this short poorly worded post… I love you already. Thank you for reading.