If I am being competely honest, 2018 has been a really tough year. Actually the last nine months have proved to be full of trials and tribulations. Moments marked by fear, sadness, heartache, and unnerving anxiety.

Last October, Nathan suffered an unexpected accident which impacted his sight in one eye and left us on a journey of unknown. Trips to a specialist an hour and a half away. The first week consisted of daily appointments which became multiple a week for weeks, dwindling to multiple a month, and then slowly spreading out over the course of months. We saw multiple doctors. We were introduced to the lead doctors at the eye institute as a mere, “must see,” given the rarity of his case. We tried a second opinion three hours away. Slowly this became a new stressful norm, and sure enough time has been our biggest ally. It eventually brought answers, peace, healing, and adaption.

New Year’s Eve weekend I miscarried. It was a heartbreaking experience followed by surges of hormones, emotions, and lots of what if’s and self blame. Being seven weeks along I felt afraid to feel or express the loss, yet I clearly dealt with the sadness associated with losing something. I quietly processed my emotions with very few knowing the reason for my sudden emotional change, because very few knew I was pregnant to begin with. Considering how many women experience a miscarriage, which is 1 in 4, it was a lesson and harsh reality in how uncomfortable the topic still is for people to talk about. Sharing this today took a deep breath in and giant exhale out.

The Saturday before Easter, life suddenly stopped. I woke up with a missed call and a very early morning text from my mother asking if I was awake. Looking at the time the text came through I knew something was wrong. My grandmother suffered a sudden respiratory illness which left her unconscious and on a ventilator four hours away from us, as she was visiting family for the Easter holiday. A week and a half later they removed her from the ventilator and moved her out of ICU. We were relieved by the idea of her progress, so I drove with my Mom for what we thought was going to be a trip to discuss moving her by ambulance to a rehab or hospital near home. Instead, we were blindsided by a prognosis that her lungs and heart were failing. I held her hand, and was able to exchange an “I love you,” before slowly watching her fade mentally and physically from us in a matter of hours. The absolute pain of seeing a woman I admired my whole life, a woman who was so strong, and unbreakable during hard times, lay helpless before me was one of the hardest, if not the hardest moment of my life. I could barely handle the breathtaking pain of realizing the magnitude of the news, so I excused myself from her room multiple times in hopes that helpless wandering through the hospital halls would help me find my breath. If you are ever faced with knowing that you are in a moment that is your last with someone you love so much, let me express that the walk away will be the hardest steps you take in this life. April 14, 2018, she died in the same room I kissed her goodbye in.

A few weeks later I sat in my doctor’s office. After the previous miscarriage and nearly two years of being unable to successfully grow our family, I learned my struggle was not without reasoning and was referred to a fertility specialist for some further discussion.

So, you can imagine my surprise when well before my upcoming appointment I learned we were pregnant.

Clearly, Logan is excited. I mean she has only been asking for the last year, with puppy dog eyes, why she doesn’t have a brother or sister.

Now you may be wondering why I led this announcement with such a backstory?

Well, first this is why I have been so quiet here. My mind has been swirling the last few months, and then the first trimester reared its ugly, “I am going to make you feel less human head,” and I just did not have the mental capability to write.

Secondly, I never want this space to be about a perfect life. Gosh, we all know there are enough blogs and influencers out there with picture perfect portrayals which has never been my thing. I want to connect, and hopefully relate. I also want to reiterate that I am not looking for pity. This is a story, my story, and leads me to my next point.

Third, life has a way of dealing us a deck of cards with winning and losing hands. If these turbulent nine months have taught me anything it is patience and surrender.

I have prayed, pleaded, bargained, screamed, and cried to God. I have started my prayers with, “I know this is about me again,” far too many times. I have questioned Him with “why?” And, yet, through all the sadness, heartache, pain, and tears, here we are nine months later rejoicing in His goodness, and this exciting blessing.

It is amazing how much can change in such a short period of time. God does not promise a life of happiness, absent from heartache, and He doesn’t deliver us our sorrows. What He does deliver is the promise to trust in Him through the highs and lows of life. To surrender to His timing, and to have patience in the journey.

While I give Him all the glory of this exciting new chapter and life, I can’t help but smile thinking my Meema had a good sit down with him in Heaven about this new little blessing.

We are excited to share this new story with you and clearly I have some great new content for this space and my social channels. Have I told you how much I love you? Thank you for being a follower and reading along.