Baby Bean

There has only been one day in my life that I have felt complete darkness. A total lack of hope and peace. A lack of understanding that left me scared and angry and broken like I have never been before. 

This day was Wednesday, September 21st. The day I found out I was losing my baby. 

But to fully tell this story, we have to start on September 3rd, one of the happiest days of my life. The day that I, as countless women before me have, peed on a stick, waited impatiently for little pink lines, felt my heart flutter in ways it never has before, and ran into the living room to tell my husband he was finally a daddy. We laughed, I cried. We spent the day talking about our dreams for our kid, our goals in parenting, the logical stuff and the not so logical stuff. I immediately started a Pinterest board to plan out the nursery, and started day dreaming about anything and everything concerning being a mom. Before we went to bed I got out an old empty journal and wrote my sweet baby a letter, as did Lewis. 

"Dearest Baby Hudson,

 Today, little one, I found out you existed. You have filled your daddy’s heart and mine in crazy new ways. In joyful ways. All day waves of terror crashed over me. And I kept thinking to myself “I am a momma.” Someone (you) will have expectations of me now. You will look at me like I look at my own sweet momma. That, my love, is an incredible gift. And I am terrified and joyful. I have wonderful dreams for what you will become. Who you will become. But I want to teach you to love Christ most of all. And find & know yourself completely in Him. I still struggle to do that, so I don’t know how I’m going to teach you to. There is a lot I’m still learning about myself. But one thing I am sure of every second since I found out, is how much I want you. How much I adore you & cherish you and love you. How excited I am to hold you for 9 months & learn all about you. I love you so, sweet baby of mine. I have prayed for you, and thank God for you. Every moment.

Goodnight my love, 

-Momma"

"Welcome to Earth, kiddo!

 Seriously I am stoked. Found out this morning you’re en-route. Number one thing that I hope I can help you see is that God is the most important One in your life. He made you, He planned out your conception, knit you together in your mother’s womb, etc. You are His child. I cant wait to teach you all the things! We are going to have so much fun. I love you.

  Love,

   Dad"

As you can imagine the days after this were all filled with planning and excitement. We were bursting at the seams to tell people. It was too early to publicly announce anything, but we almost immediately told our parents. Lewis' mom told me she had a dream three weeks prior predicting this baby, and that she thought it was going to be a girl. We bought baby shoes, and the cutest little NASA shirt you've ever seen. We nicknamed baby Bean, and celebrated our new secret life every day. On September 8th I wrote Bean a second letter.

"Baby Bean,

         Apparently you are the size of a sweet pea! Your furry big brother Jesse had been extra cuddly. I wonder if he knows about you. Your daddy loves you so much. He keeps putting avocados on all my food (they help grow your brain). J

            Your grandma and paw-paw Evett are so excited! So is your uncle Garrett, who is the raddest person ever by the way. You’re going to love him. Apparently your grandma Hudson had a dream that I was pregnant with you three weeks ago. And she told me you were a girl. I guess we’ll see! J

            I am tired all the time. Ha, growing you takes a lot of energy. I found this yesterday and cried: 

“I am not alone. Running errands and talking on the phone, I am pleasantly reminded I am not alone. Little tiny hands, a precious rounded knee, pushing and twisting that no one can see. Oh sweet child kicking up your heels, it is our little secret that only I can feel. I look forward to your birth, when I can kiss your skin, but for now I will just smile as I feel you play within.”

I love you. 

-Momma"

We told a few more close friends, and made plans to tell others for Christmas or upcoming birthdays. I had completely dropped caffeinated coffee, and you guys know how much I depend on coffee. But it was surprisingly easy. It was a sacrifice for my kid - I didn't hesitate.

Lewis and I went to Kansas over the weekend of Sep. 16th, to visit some of our friends. We excitedly shared our news, which was met with huge hugs and laughs and smiles all around. But Sunday morning I woke up feeling very odd. I didn’t say anything, because I didn’t think there was any reason to worry Lewis. It was just a weird feeling, nothing to be concerned about. But it bugged me. Before Sunday morning, I could feel life. I felt like there was this part of myself that I couldn’t really feel. A part of my body that wasn’t mine, a space inside me where my own nerve endings didn’t quite reach. I felt like I had a separate life inside me. And when I woke up Sunday, I didn’t feel that anymore. I felt empty. And it worried me.

Lewis was scheduled to head into the field for a week starting that Tuesday. He went in Tuesday morning and I wasn’t supposed to see him again until Saturday. Wednesday morning I woke up, went to the bathroom, and to my complete horror – found blood. Not a lot, and I had read enough pregnancy blogs and apps to know that it could be totally fine. Not to worry. But I couldn’t get how I felt Sunday morning out of my head - and now this. So I cried, and read more blogs, and tried to calm myself down, and frantically went to the bathroom every ten minutes. A few hours later it hadn’t stopped, so I called the triage nurse. She told me exactly what the articles online had, to calm down and wait and if it got worse to go to the ER. She could hear the very obvious worry in my voice that I was trying to mask, and made me an OB appointment for the following afternoon, hoping to put my nerves at ease.

By the afternoon the blood was much, much, worse. I will remember this afternoon vividly for the rest of my life, I have no doubt. I spent most of it either sitting on my bathroom floor sobbing so hard I couldn’t breathe, or laying in bed sobbing so hard I couldn’t breathe. I’m sure my neighbors were worried, my pups definitely were. I cant remember a time in my life that I have cried that much, that hard, and that loud. And I am a crier, I cry all the time. Sometimes for no reason. But this left my throat hoarse and my eyes swollen and my neck and shirt wet.

I remember other parts of the day just as vividly. Deciding around 5 to call my mom. The sound of her voice when she tried to calm me down. Livia showing up around 5:45 to sit with me. I remember everything she was wearing because I was trying to distract myself anyway that I could. I remember making the decision to call Lewis shortly after, and hearing the panic in his voice that he was trying to hide. He told me later that he was literally spinning up in a helicopter when we spoke on the phone and his friend half seriously offered to just helicopter him to the hospital. I remember Livia laughing when I asked if she wanted to drive to the ER separately, and realizing that I probably shouldn’t be driving. I remember the drive, and how hard it was to have normal conversation. How my mind was racing, and how hard it was to breathe normally. I kept playing conversations over and over in my head. The moment I told Lewis I was pregnant. When I told one of my closest friends and she was so excited, because she knew this was my dream. I felt like I was just sitting and staring at my response to her. “Totally my dream. I cant even express. This child means so much to me.” Constantly seeing that conversation. “This child means so much to me.”

Lewis got to the hospital shortly after we did. I remember how badly my head was throbbing from all the crying I had been doing. I remember the look of worry in his eyes when he saw me and saw how distraught I was. I remember laying in a hospital gown, staring at the ceiling, trying not to cry as I listened to complete silence while the nurse searched and searched for a heartbeat. I remember how red the container of pee I gave her was, and Lewis’ eyes widening when he saw it.

Eventually we went home, after hours of laying in a cold hospital bed waiting for answers. We were told that Bean was very far down for a normal pregnancy, they couldn’t find a heartbeat, and my pregnancy hormone levels were lower than expected. And that it appeared that I was in the early stages of having a miscarriage. If I continued to bleed and cramp, that would be our confirmation. All we could do was go home and wait.

Lewis has this incredibly kind commander who told him to stay with me that night, and every night after, instead of going back to the field and leaving me alone.

I slept a lot that night, and in the morning I woke up in tears. I’ve never woken up and immediately starting crying before. But that’s what happened. Lewis took me to get food and coffee, and in the car ride the song “Thy Will Be Done” came on. I began to sob, and Lewis quickly turned it off. I wasn’t ready to tell God that if this was His will it was ok. I wasn’t ready to trust Him. We sat at a park near us and I remember watching these 4 old men play tennis, thinking how stupid I felt. Sitting there eating soup, watching tennis, like my baby wasn’t currently dying and falling out of me in pieces. It was then that I realized I was angry. I know God. I follow Him. I know the Bible, I know that trials bring character, and He uses them to bring us closer to Himself. But I was so mad that He would use the death of my child to somehow grow me. How dare He allow this. Take me instead. Not this innocent baby. I felt that I had done something wrong to deserve this, that I somehow deserved to be taught a lesson. But that He was taking it out on my kid, rather than me. I was so mad.

I cried off and on all day. I tried distracting myself with TV shows when Lewis left for work, but I mostly slept and cried. I wrote a third letter to Bean in the midst of this pain.

“Dearest baby,

I found out yesterday that I was losing you. I have cried more in the past 24 hours than I have ever cried before in my life. I wish that I could somehow comfort you, or hold you, or say good-bye. Your daddy is taking incredible care of me, and your aunts and uncles and grandparents are all surrounding us completely and helping us heal.

I feel helpless, broken, defeated, mad, confused, pain, and no peace.

I can feel you disintegrating inside of me.

I was sitting at Thomas Park with your daddy trying to find some peace and eat some lunch, and I felt so incredibly stupid.

Sitting there, eating, while you, my child, were dying.

You’re falling apart, and I can do nothing.

Yesterday was the darkest day of my life.

I know that I will heal. I know that I will never stop loving and missing you, but the pain will not always be so irrepressibly present. I know that this will all somehow make your daddy and I stronger. But right now, none of that helps or feels like reality.

I am sitting here, trying to distract myself with ice cream and Gilmore Girls, while I bleed. While your presence slowly leaves my body. Every cramp brings tears to my eyes.

Yesterday, after realizing how bad I was bleeding, sitting alone on the bathroom floor, I grabbed my stomach and told you I loved you. Because I don’t know what else to do.

There are reminders of you all over our house, and our lives. Tiny shoes, books I bought for you, clothes I bought for myself in preparation for you to grow. A note in the shower that I wrote your daddy after we found out about you. Its been hanging there for a couple of weeks. I don’t know what to do with these things. These reminders. I want to hold on to them, to hold on to you.

I am mad that God would allow this. I know that that is absolutely not how I should be responding, but that is absolutely how I feel. I wish he had taken me instead. I don’t understand, and I’m confused. I want Him to tell me why. But He doesn’t have to. You were His before you were mine. You were His before creation. He loves you more than I could possibly imagine loving you. But still, I am mad.

I don’t know if this will be the last letter I write to you or not. Please know that I love you immensely, as does your daddy, and I miss you so much I cant breathe. 

-Momma”

Thursday night, around 8pm, something happened in my heart and I was finally ready to hear God’s answers. To let Him talk to me. I wasn’t angry anymore, or at least I didn’t want to be. I wanted to understand.

I knew that statistically having a miscarriage was much more common than women talk about. So I went looking for answers. Why would He allow this? And I needed more answers than the generic ones that I already knew. I literally just Googled - ‘Sermons on miscarriage’. And God was faithful. He saw His very broken daughter reaching out for answers and grace, and He supplied abundantly. I found this:

https://www.gracechurch.org/sermons/6122?AspxAutoDetectCookieSupport=1

I filled 8 pages, front and back, with notes and quotes. It took me an hour and half to listen to all of it (a 45 minute long talk) because I kept pausing it to write down what she had said. I found so much healing in those two hours. Healing that I was very skeptical I would ever find.

She reminded me that God was sovereign, wise, and loving.

God is sovereign, “Whatever our calamity we may be sure our father has a loving purpose for it.”

God is wise, “The good that God works for our life is conformity to the likeness of His Son. It is not necessarily for comfort, or for happiness, but conformity in Christ in ever increasing measure in this life, and in its fullness in eternity. God in His wisdom knows exactly what adversity we need to grow into the likeness of His Son. Not only what – but when and how.”

God is loving, “The psalmist says – I have hidden your word in my heart that I might not sin against you.’ To murmur against God and question His goodness is indeed sin. We should work as diligently in trusting God’s love as we do in obeying His commands. God’s love is an objective truth that cannot be contradicted but it is a truth that we must store away in our minds and hearts. Then we must use it, in the midst of adversity, to deal with our doubts, to combat the accusations of Satan, and to glorify God by trusting Him.”

She combatted the lie that somehow this is punishment for me with Romans 8:1, and the fact that Jesus has already fully paid for our sin and taken on our full punishment. She posed the question, “Are you willing to accept whatever the Lord has for you, even if it seems like the worst case scenario?” And she challenged how I was to respond to trials with a quote from the book “Grace Grows Best in Winter.”

“It must be recognized that acceptance is not submission with its overtones of submerged rebellion. It is not resignation with its dangers of ensuing self-pity and the development of a martyr complex. It is acceptance in the fullest sense of the word. Acceptance is taking from God’s hand absolutely anything He chooses to give us, looking up into His face in love and trust, even in thanksgiving. Acceptance is knowing that the confines of the hedge of our particular struggle are good. Even perfect. However painful they may be, simply because He Himself has given them. Acceptance is the key that unlocks the door to contentment. Contentment is not the end of your desires, but it is the place where you may deal with your desires in a way that pleases God.”

She also gave a list of reasons. And even if they might not feel like enough to justify this pain, they are reasons that give me hope.

-       To test the strength of our faith

-       To remind us not to let our trust in the Lord turn into presumption or spiritual self satisfaction

-       To wean us from our dependence on worldly things

-       To call us to heavenly hope

-       To reveal what we really love

-       To teach us the value of God’s blessings

-       To enable us to endure future trials and difficulties

-       To help us develop enduring strength so that we might be of greater use in God’s kingdom

-       To promote the glory of God

-       To exhibit the power of the faithfulness of God

-       To lead us to seek God in prayer

-       To convince us of sin and lead us to confession

-       To exhibit that we indeed have saving faith

-       To humble us

-       To spread the gospel

I will probably never fully understand why, but it is not mine to understand. It is mine to trust. Fully, completely, without hesitation. And these reasons are why I’m writing this. Because for this experience and trial that He has given me to be useful for others – I have to talk about it. I have to talk about what I learned and where I failed and what I felt and what I know.

At the end of this sweet ladies talk she tells us about how her best friend died around the time she had a miscarriage. And she was sad that her children would never meet this woman, but then she realized that the babies she has miscarried are in heaven, worshiping alongside her friend every day. And when I heard that I began to cry (again). As most of you know, my great grandmother died this April, right after Lewis and I got married. And after hearing her say that, I had this beautiful, clear, mental image of my sweet Granny holding my baby. Several women in my family have miscarried, and I can imagine Granny finally getting to meet all the grand and great-grand and great-great-grand kids she never got to meet before.

What better hands to hold and comfort my sweet Bean than those of my Savior and those of the sweetest, most gentle woman I ever knew? And that thought has given me the most peace so far. I’m actually really jealous when I think about it. My baby got the good end of the deal on this one.

Praying is still hard most days, finding the words. Being around people, acting normal. Listening to music, sermons. There are reminders of Bean’s little life everywhere. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I serve a good, good, good God. Who loves me in ways I will never understand, and holds me even when I’m angry and broken and yelling. Who gives me countless blessings, even in the absolute worst days of my life. And He gave me the most incredible husband who makes me laugh when it’s the last thing I feel like doing. I have no idea how he does it. He is so strong and peaceful, and helps me through every sad moment I experience. I am at a loss for words when I think about how much I am loved and taken care of.

“No discipline [literally – ‘soul cultivation’] seems enjoyable at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it yields the fruit of peace and righteousness to those who have been trained by it.”  - Hebrews 12:11

Married Life.

Marriage is much messier than I expected.
And John Legend knows more about it than I ever gave him credit for.

I've been trying to figure out for a few weeks now what to write about. I wanted to be vulnerable about marriage and what I'm learning, but I couldn't put it into words. And this morning I was all emotional and listening to emotional girl music while I got ready for the day, and John Legend's "All of Me" came on. A song I've heard a thousand times, and can sing along to almost word for word. But I didn't realize how beautifully accurate it was. I'll post some lyrics to give you an example: 

"What would I do without your smart mouth? Drawing me in, and you kicking me 

out. You've got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down. What's going on in that 

beautiful mind? I'm on your magical mystery ride, And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me, but I'll be alright." 

I realized this morning that this must be exactly how Lewis feels. On a daily basis. So in love with me, and so very utterly confused at the same time. But the weird thing is that this is how I feel about myself also! My guess is as good as his most days. I thought I knew myself so much better than I do. I thought I was so much more prepared for this than I was. 

Marriage is teaching me so much about myself, is what I'm rambling on about. And I didnt expect that, really. My heart is so confusing. I'm hot and then cold, and upset for no reason I can think of, and annoyed, and mad at myself. And when I'm mad and annoyed with myself, obviously I blame my husband who is dying to himself daily to love me better.
Because that makes the most sense.
Right?

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?

To be totally vulnerable - I have had moments of complete brokenness. I have sobbed in this man's arms more in the past two months than I ever have in such a short time before. One of my favorite parts of this song says, "My head's under water, But I'm breathing fine. You're crazy and I'm out of my mind."I laugh almost every time I sing it. Because both of us must think we're crazy. I know I think I'm crazy. This is such a messy relationship. Its so extremely intimately close, so intense, so raw and real, and constant. And theres no way to prepare for it, or have it figured out, or always be logical and patient (unless you're my husband, but I'm pretty sure he is definitely one of a kind). 

I have gone through so much self doubt and insecurity, and communication shut downs. I have been face-to-face with so many ugly, gross, sinful parts of my heart. I am learning so much about what I really actually deeply believe about God's character, personality, and grace. 

I'm not saying that everyone goes through this. I could definitely be the only one, because I actually am an emotional mess most days. Even before marriage. But, I do know that without a doubt, everyone will tell you, marriage is hard. Its beautiful and worth it, and hard and breaks you as it builds you. 

"'Cause all of me, loves all of you. Love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect imperfections. Give your all to me - I'll give my all to you. You're my end and my beginning, Even when I lose I'm winning. 'Cause I give you all of me, And you give me all of you."

For better, or more often some weeks, worse. We're committed. All of me loves him. And all of him loves me, even when I make his head spin. And we're figuring it out, and figuring me out slowly on our way. "Risking it all though its hard." 

Why am I not enough?

Why am I not enough?

This question has been racing through my head for weeks now. It has, at times during this current trial, consumed me. Why? What about me isn't enough? What should I change? How can I fix myself and be better? Phrase it how you will - it has been eating me alive. It has seeped into every crevice of my heart as I have let Satan speak lies and pride into my life. 

Why am I not enough? 

I would very much like to play victim sometimes. I want to be allowed to feel hurt and offended. And while there are times when those feelings are totally justified - how much more beautiful is it to praise Christ? To turn our hearts to Him. Not to ourselves. To look up and out and not revel in our hurt. I have allowed myself too long to live in this sadness. To question my worth in other peoples eyes. How prideful I have been. I have put focus on myself instead of bringing glory to God by praising in the refining fire He lovingly sends!

Why am I not enough? 

The root of this question is not actually about questioning myself.  It is the manifestation of my heart asking 'Why is Christ not enough?' And oh what a dangerous, prideful question to ask. A question that steals God's glory, and causes doubt in others. 

Here is the answer. 

Simply because: I am NOT enough. 

I'm not. And the moment I would start thinking I am is the moment I no longer rely on Christ. When has the Word ever said we are enough? We can do nothing good enough to cover our sin, we cannot have righteousness apart from God, and we can have no relationship with God apart from His perfect Son, Jesus Christ. We aren't enough. And we never will be. And guess what? 

Here's the mic drop. 

Because. It's. Not. About. Us. 

Its not about our hurt, or our trial, or our heart, or our life, or our anything. Our lives are about loving Christ, and bringing God glory. The end. 

The moment we put the focus on ourselves, is the moment we let Satan win. We let him get in our minds, and speak into our lives. We take the focus off of Christ, and Christ's sacrifice and love and grace and forgiveness and power. How heartbreaking to realize. 

Trials produce character and help to conform our hard stubborn hearts into the heart of Christ. They make us depend on God, trust Him, truly worship Him, and love Him and others more deeply. They are gifts. They are messy, hard, beautiful gifts. Praise God! Oh, how He loves us. To desire so deeply to teach us and change us and help us to grow. To send refining fire. Great is His faithfulness! 

I am weary. I am hurt. 

But I am so thankful. 

So thankful that God loves me so extremely much. To be patient with me while I struggle through self doubt. To gently refocus my mind. To glorify Himself in my life. In my life. He wants to use me?! He is slowly, and painfully, making every part of my heart bow the knee. He is good, good Father. And I am astounded by His faithful love. 

So, loved one, you are not enough. But praise God for that! Because He is. And He uses your weakness to show His strength and provision. How loving and awesome is that?

P.S.

Can I just say that I'm marrying the coolest, Godliest man like ever? He is so so good, and loves me like Christ loves the church. He is so patient and encouraging and faithful. He protects me, and stands up for my heart, and leads me with such grace that I can only admire him and praise God for the fruit of His faithfulness to us. Lewis, babe, you are a good and Godly man, and I cannot wait to be your wife, and serve this awesome Father alongside you. 

Isaiah 26:3 

"You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You." 

Psalm 18:28-30

"For it is You who lights my lamp, the Lord my God lightens my darkness. For by You I can run against a troop, and by God I can leap over a wall. This God - His way is perfect. The Word of the Lord proves true. He is a shield to all who take refuge in Him."

Isaiah 43:1-2
"But now thus says the Lord, He who created you, O Jacob, He who formed you, O Israel: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you."

Growing Pains

"Change is never easy. You fight to hold on. You fight to let go."

I am currently sitting in an airport. My flight from Syracuse to Birmingham has been delayed twice now, from 5:45 to 7:00 to 9:00. But I’m actually extremely thankful for that. Because God’s timing is better than mine or Delta’s. He knows way better than we do how to schedule our days. I really needed these few hours. To spend time in His word with my Dunkin’ Donuts’ coffee, and to write this out. So as to verbally process my feelings in a way that conveys them clearly to you – the sweet person who took time out of their day to read my rambling blog about my crazy heart.

I am, as previously mentioned, flying home from New York today. For those who don’t know, Lewis is stationed at Ft. Drum near Watertown, NY, so for the first year or two of our marriage we will be living here. I’ve been here for 11 days, and I am so in love with the snow and the people and the downtown area that I feel quite torn about leaving. I’ve been processing a lot of torn feelings this week. It all came to the surface when Lewis was kissing me goodnight one evening and I started crying. Poor thing. Sweet man that he is though, he just pulled me closer and held me while I cried and tried to vocalize feelings that even I didn’t fully understand at the time.

I think I’ve summed them up fairly well now in a few terms. One of which is the title of this post – “Growing Pains.” It’s the joy and pain of a transition. As we got into a rhythm in Watertown, meeting for lunch (nothing is sweeter than meeting your soldier for lunch, and nothing is hotter than Lewis in uniform), going to Navigators and other Bible studies, sight seeing, having date nights (such a blessing to have the time for those again), it began to sink in more and more that this was my new home. Which is incredibly exciting! But oh-so terrifying. And I began to feel lonely. Lonely for my people and my places. Lonely for my family and the rhythm of my life and my town. I am going into this new season with my best friend, and my Lord and Savior and Rock, and those two facts are the greatest comfort I have – but I still get swept up into this fear and uncertainty. Yes, I said ‘get’ - present tense. I’m still working through this. And I think I will have to learn it as I go.

I’m really struggling to hold back tears as I write this, for related but slightly different reasons. I had to leave the love of my life, my teammate and closest confidant, back in the cute little town where I’ll live in a couple of months. ‘Torn in two’ is the second of the terms I’ve been thinking about, because my heart feels very torn in two. Two pieces of my life, very big ones mind you, are separated by a good bit of distance. “Home isn’t the place you live, it’s where the people you love are.”

I have two homes. And I am having a very hard time feeling whole.

At which point of breaking down what I am feeling, my sweet, loving Father is reminding me how to be content, and how to trust Him. How He is my home, how He never changes, He is constant and loving and a rock and shield for the weak. How He has a perfect plan, and supplies my joy and peace. He is teaching me to love Him first, with my heart, mind, soul, and strength.

All of these feelings come in waves. Sometimes big ones that knock me over unexpectedly. I don’t think I’m going to figure this one out. I don’t think I am going to be able to change my mindset, and adjust my focus effectively. But I also don’t think I have to. Or want to. This is where I am right now. And God is taking care of my heart. I am not worried about the end goal. And I am so certain of His love and protection.

I don’t want to get used to saying good-bye to people I love. I don’t want it to get easy. I don’t want to become callous to leaving my homes.

I was talking with a sweet friend last night, she was checking on me, knowing that I would be saying goodbye to Lewis in just a few hours. I tried to say “Oh I’m ok, I’m getting used to it.” Because that’s what people want to hear. And that’s what made me feel strong in that moment. It was prideful - and it was false. She quickly responded with, “Don’t feel like you have to say that. Every time my husband or I leave each other – it only gets harder to say goodbye.” Man, did that resonate with me. I cry more, and earlier on, each time Lewis and I say goodbye. But that’s good. The more time I spend with him, the stronger our bond becomes and the harder it is to leave the other part of me somewhere else. To not have him around anymore hurts more and more. And I’m thankful for that. I’m glad I love him like that.

Transitions are hard. Change and growth are hard. But my support team in this adventure is pretty stellar – and I’m ecstatic just as much as I’m terrified. It’s a balance. ;)