2016 vs 2017

Sad
Angry
Broken
Confused
Happy
Anxious
Cautious
Defensive
Depressed
Drained
Envious
Hopeful
Lonely
Loved
Mad
Numb
Peaceful
Restless
Tired
Annoyed
Strong
Calm
Crushed
Disappointed
Brave
Excited
Good
Heartbroken
Guilty
Terrified
Rejuvenated
Thankful
Content

I have felt all of these emotions at least once in 2016.  This year has been a year of extreme highs and extreme lows for me.  Navigating life after loss is harder than I ever expected, but it has also taught me so much more about myself. 

At the beginning of 2016 I never thought I’d feel hopeful and truly happy again.  Month by month I slowly started laughing again.  At first I would feel guilty for laughing and having fun, because to me that meant I had moved on, and that pushed Isaac further away from me. But, I had to learn that moving on was the only way that I could honor him completely.  He wouldn’t have wanted me to stay in that deep dark place.  That wasn’t fair to anyone.  By the end of 2016 I feel like a completely different person than I started out this year.  

With our new baby on the way I’m so excited, and hopeful that this baby will get to come home with us.  But, to be honest, I’m also terrified.  What if the unthinkable happens again?  Would we live through it a second time?  I can’t dwell on those thoughts though, as I don’t want to slip into that dark place again.  Instead I’m choosing to be hopeful, and pray that things will be different this time.  I know being scared and stressed out isn’t good for the baby, so I’m doing my best. 

If I had to choose one word off of my list that would describe how I want and plan to live in 2017 it would be strong.  I’ve never considered myself a strong person before.  Not physical strength, but emotionally strong.  With every day that passes I hope to be strong enough to put one foot in front of the other and face the new day.  I will be strong enough to get through this pregnancy, and love this baby as fiercely as I love Thomas and Isaac.    Yes, there will be days where strong is the last thing that I could feel, but my hope is that those are the days I’ll be able to look back and see how far I’ve come, and realize my strength is what got me through. 

What word would you choose to describe how you want to live in 2017?

Fifteen Years

How does one even come to terms that it's been that long since you heard the best news you've ever been given?  

I remember the exam room they sat us in. I remember that everything felt so sterile, and how nervous all three of us were waiting for Tom's doctor to open the door. Tom and his mom made chit chat trying to pass the time. After what felt like forever the doctor finally walked in. He didn't smile right away so I assumed the worst; the chemo didn't work. He sat down and said "The good news is that your cancer is completely gone.  The bad news is there's only a 1 in 5 chance that you'll be able to have kids someday."  All of the wind was forced out of me - Tom was cancer free!  We were all so relieved that I don't think the possibility of not having children some far off time in distance didn't even phase us. 

The three of us went out to eat at MCL to celebrate, and then called the rest of our families to tell them the good news. I was on cloud nine. I wasn't going to lose my fiancé before he would become my husband. 

I'm forever thankful to the doctors and nurses at IU Hospital that took such good care of my man, and kept him positive during some of the hardest days of his life. But, most importantly I'm thankful for a man that didn't give up when things got tough. I'm thankful he's still here and still by my side, fifteen years later. I wouldn't want to do life with anyone else. I'm also glad they were wrong about the possibility of not having children because we do make pretty cute kids. 

I love you babe - happy 15 years cancer free!  

15 Long Months

I know what it’s like to have pain slap you across the face – fierce, cold, and confusing.  I know the desperate longing for someone to come close, but the fear of being hurt if they don’t handle you with the deepest care.  I get the panic that comes with rejection.  I get how a conversation can make your chest cave in and leave you breathless.

And sometimes there’s no space to stop.  No time to fall apart or come undone.  No one who understands and the despair that no one ever will...what happens when everything inside of you is too complex to even explain? 

What happens is one day you can’t stop crying.  And the heart-breaking reality sets in that you can’t outrun yourself.  And you finally fall flat on your face.  Then, the mystery and miracle coexist – death brings life.  The bottom of the barrel becomes your lifeline, second chance, and where you start over.  Prayer, like breathing, ushers you into grace.  Grace wraps you in and out of love.  Love, washing over you and making you whole again.  And, when you least expect it, you realize you can breathe, and although the pain is still there, you’ve learned to trust that it isn't permanent.

It’s so easy to trust the Lord in the light, but trusting His plan in the dark takes courage, hope, and faith.  These are the moments in life when all I can do is breathe and trust.  Breathe and trust.  These are the moments when our faith is tested the most, and hopefully, these are the moments where our faith will prevail. 

If I’ve learned anything over the past fifteen months, it’s that where there is great pain, there is also great love.  Even with all of the pain, loneliness, anger, and hurt I would choose Isaac again. Every. Single. Time.  The brief time we had with him brought us so much joy, and I wouldn’t want to live without that.