I love this little piece of internet that I call my own. Do I write regularly? No. Do I have a large readership? Unless you count family members who have subscribed to my blog (Hi, Mom!), no. Do I have sponsorships and an expensive design/layout? No.
But dang it, it's all mine and, if nothing else, it's authentic. It's my safe place to electronically scribble my thoughts, aspirations, fears, and truth. A place to drone on about the struggles and triumphs of motherhood, marriage, travel, and everything in between. What more could I need?
Speaking of travel, it's all I can think about! I've fantasized about seeing the world since I was in kindergarten (cliche, I know, but true). I have to believe that if God put this passion in me and it has stayed constant throughout my entire life, it serves a purpose, right?
Kyle's asked me before, "If you could live anywhere for the rest of your life, where would it be?" Honestly, I can't answer. I want to immerse myself in the culture of so many different places. I want to try the food, befriend the locals, meander the streets, and learn the languages of dozens of locales. I want to feel "home" in places that look nothing like my childhood town. Perhaps it's just a lofty dream, and one day I'll look back at this time and laugh about how I was still so naive and optimistic, but for now, it's my dream and I'm sticking to it.
We all have goals for our lives, each different, special and unique. They are legitimate goals that we truly want to accomplish, but we aren't. Why?
It's simple, really, and holds no prejudices: We are distracted.
We are distracted, not only because of our day to day responsibilities but because we are constantly tuned into the less important stuff, like social media and television. They provide momentary entertainment, but the unfortunate reality is they are a complete and utter waste of time. Believe me, I'm not on any high horse; I absolutely struggle with giving my time to things that don't matter, too.
The moments where I could be budgeting for my next adventure, I spend mindlessly scrolling through my Instagram feed. I'm not proud of it, but it is the reality for me and so many others.
So, here is my official declaration: I will stop wasting so much time on things that give my life literally zero value. I will write. I will travel. I will laugh and play with my family. I refuse to be the person who, in their old age, wishes they had done things differently. With discipline, intentionality, and mindfulness, change is possible, and it can start today.
Friday, March 9, 2018
Monday, July 17, 2017
Updates (and a little weirdness, too)
Hi, world. Are you there? It's me, Bailey.
A lot has changed since we last spoke: I've transitioned into full fledged motherhood, my baby is nearly one, and I no longer fit seamlessly into a two piece (nor do I care to blog about said two pieces). Sigh. Again, full transition into motherhood over here. I'm also rambling a bit because my goodness, I've hardly written in nearly a year. Writing, it's just good for my soul, ya know? And when I neglect this side of myself, the side that needs to be creative and expressive, well we get a whole post full of nothin' and everything all at once. Still reading? Good, 'cause I'm still rambling.
Motherhood has changed me and challenged me in a multitude of ways. Gone are the days where I wavered back and forth endlessly on which outfit looked best, which accessories were most on trend. Have I showered? Am I fully clothed? One out of two ain't bad, let's go! Being a mama has taught me to neglect myself for the betterment of others. I live a life of servitude, as does my husband, and I can say with complete clarity and honesty that it has changed me for the better. I've matured in ways that I didn't think possible and have learned to think of others before myself. That's not to say I'm now some sort of Mother Teresa; lord knows I've got plenty of flaws to flaunt to the world. I'm just saying that I'm less sucky of a person than I used to be. And that's all we can really ask for, right? To slowly get less sucky and more enlightened over time.
Anyway. There's a documentary on North Korea calling my name (yes, this is now what I do in my free time. Judge me). Until we meet again!
A lot has changed since we last spoke: I've transitioned into full fledged motherhood, my baby is nearly one, and I no longer fit seamlessly into a two piece (nor do I care to blog about said two pieces). Sigh. Again, full transition into motherhood over here. I'm also rambling a bit because my goodness, I've hardly written in nearly a year. Writing, it's just good for my soul, ya know? And when I neglect this side of myself, the side that needs to be creative and expressive, well we get a whole post full of nothin' and everything all at once. Still reading? Good, 'cause I'm still rambling.
Motherhood has changed me and challenged me in a multitude of ways. Gone are the days where I wavered back and forth endlessly on which outfit looked best, which accessories were most on trend. Have I showered? Am I fully clothed? One out of two ain't bad, let's go! Being a mama has taught me to neglect myself for the betterment of others. I live a life of servitude, as does my husband, and I can say with complete clarity and honesty that it has changed me for the better. I've matured in ways that I didn't think possible and have learned to think of others before myself. That's not to say I'm now some sort of Mother Teresa; lord knows I've got plenty of flaws to flaunt to the world. I'm just saying that I'm less sucky of a person than I used to be. And that's all we can really ask for, right? To slowly get less sucky and more enlightened over time.
Anyway. There's a documentary on North Korea calling my name (yes, this is now what I do in my free time. Judge me). Until we meet again!
Monday, February 6, 2017
Lyla's Birth Story
My mom always told me that babies kill brain cells, and you know what? It's true. Lyla was born five months ago, and already, I feel that some of the specific details of her birth feel foggy. I never want to forget the most wonderful, painful, life altering day I've ever encountered, so that leaves us here. Shall we begin?
I was seven days past my due date, and I was MISERABLE. (PSA: If your doctor tells you that you will go into labor early, just know fate will have you being late. That's just how it works - ask anyone). I was starting my second year teaching special education at a local middle school, and I had quickly grown tired (literally) of walking up and down long hallways all.day.long. I stuck it out for as long as I could and smiled through coworkers asking every day, "You haven't gone into labor yet?!" I have to admit, I was wondering the same thing. Where was this baby?!
On that seventh day, Kyle and I headed to the OBGYN to get checked for progress. We packed our hospital bags in the car and dropped off our dog, Raleigh, at the in laws - just in case. The midwife checked me, and praise sweet baby Jesus, I was dilated to a three. YES! But I still technically wasn't in labor. The midwife couldn't believe I hadn't gone into labor on my own yet, but I guess Lyla is stubborn (like her parents). The midwife monitored the baby's heart rate for 30 minutes and checked her fluid levels, and thankfully, decided that I didn't need to wait any longer. She told me to grab a light lunch and head to the hospital.
To be honest, this wasn't at all how I imagined this happening. I assumed I would have the slow beginnings of labor in the comfort of my own home, like all the forums described. WRONG. I didn't want to be induced but couldn't stand the idea of waiting a moment longer to meet my daughter, so I didn't protest.
Kyle and I decided to grab some Publix subs before we headed to the hospital. Mine was plain jane turkey with a little mayo (I was trying to eat bland foods so I wouldn't get sick later - epic fail, y'all). I managed to choke down half the sandwich and some fruit despite my excitement/nervousness, wrapped up the other half to take with us, and headed to the hospital.
On the way there, Kyle was giddy and excited while I was quiet and reflective. I was trying to wrap my mind around what was about to occur. All the planning, research, prayers, appointments, baby showers, all of it came down to this day. It was time. Holy freaking crap.
Within 30 minutes of arriving at the hospital, we were taken back to our delivery room. It was massive with beautiful cherry hardwood floors, space for Kyle to sleep and even a flat screen TV. Kyle and I don't have cable, and as silly as it sounds, I was pretty excited to be able to watch HGTV while I was laboring. A full day with Chip and Joanna AND room service -am I about to give birth, or am I on vacation?
Our room could easily fit plenty of our family members and good thing, because we were already growing a fan base in the waiting room eager to meet LC. It was a busy afternoon in the Labor and Delivery Unit, so I only saw a nurse once every hour or two. Eventually, someone finally came in and hooked me up to my first Pitocin dose (affectionately nicknamed Devil's Juice, if that tells you anything).
For those few hours following my first dose, I felt nothing. Literally nothing. My nurse would look on the monitor, see a contraction, and I wouldn't even know it had happened. Kyle smiled at me and said, "maybe you're a lot stronger than you think you are. Maybe your body is handling the contractions like a champ." I smiled back and hoped for the best, but I was pretty sure the hard part had yet to arrive. In the mean time, we had family come into the room. We socialized, laughed and killed time for about an hour. In fact, I was feeling so good that I wolfed down the other half of my sandwich despite the nurse telling me not to eat anything. What can I say? This mama-to-be was HANGRY.
Finally, they decided to double my dose. I started to feel some pain, so I sent my family back out into the waiting room and prepared myself for what was to come. I was hurting but still able to talk through the contractions. Soon afterward, the midwife came in and broke my water (which, for the record, is completely disgusting. I felt like I had peed on myself). That's when things got intense.
Simply put, the midwife was wonderfully witty. She helped me to laugh through my pain and even feel calm during the entire labor. She told me that I was a star patient and the only momma to-be on the hallway that was having a "textbook labor." I wasn't sure if she was lying or not, but I definitely felt so blessed to not have any stresses or scares like a lot of other moms have.
A piece of advice I was given (and had intended to follow) was to ask for the epidural when things got extremely painful but not completely unbearable. I was there. I had dilated to a 5 and turned to my nurse and announced "I'm ready for the epidural!" She gave me a confused look and replied, "Really? Already?"
Uh...just kidding? I felt like such a wimp! I needed to be a warrior mama and endure this labor for a little longer, so I settled for a dose of fentanyl. At best, this medicine took the edge off for a grand total of fifteen minutes and made me get dizzy and throw up in the process. I was in completely unbearable pain afterwards.
Lyla was sunny side up, so I had 100% back labor. I didn't feel a single contraction in my stomach. Bluntly put, it felt like someone was trying to rip my lower back in half. When I told my nurse about my contractions, she laughed and said she would rather have 100 normal labors over one back labor. Well good, now I feel better!
What happens next is a little hazy. I remember writhing on the bed calling out to God to help me. I didn't care who saw or heard me. I remember briefly opening my eyes and seeing my always calm and collected husband look utterly terrified. I honestly think he was on the verge of calling in an exorcist. It was NOT pretty.
By the time the anesthesiologist arrived (my new BFF), I was dilated to a seven. I was completely unconcerned about the giant needle that I had been dreading going into my spine. I just needed relief as soon as possible.
The anesthesiologist was a petite, pretty young blonde, who we were certain was far too young to have such a stressful job, but I quickly brushed off my initial judgements and gladly took the epidural. Man, those things are amazing. Up until a few weeks before labor, I had considered forgoing the epidural. I have SO much respect for the mamas who choose to do without, because honestly, that takes guts and a ton of perseverance. The unspeakable pain I was feeling quickly turned into a strong thump in my lower back every 30 seconds or so. My nurse told me to get some rest while I still could, so I tried to fall asleep. Unfortunately, those strong thumps caused too much pressure in my lower back for me to take a catnap, so they upped the epidural. By the time I was actually drugged enough to get some shut eye, the midwife came in and checked me. I had dilated to a ten.
Because the midwife had so many other patients that night, she told me she would be back in about a half a hour. I checked the clock, and it was around 10:30. Oh man, Lyla may actually be born on 8/16/16! No way anyone could forget that birthday! Fast forward an hour later, the midwife finally returned. Time to push!
(I'll skip the lovely details of that part of the story).
A mere 30 minutes later, at 12:03 in the morning, Lyla was born, weighing in at 8 pounds 12 ounces and 21 and a half inches long. 8/17/16. I still maintain she should have been born on 8/16 and blame it on the tardiness of the midwife. Immediately, Lyla's identifier with the L&D staff was "the baby with all the hair." Yup, that was our wild headed baby, and we couldn't have been prouder to claim her.
In total, my entire labor from starting pitocin to giving birth was around 7.5-8 hours. I've heard of plenty of first time moms who endured twenty four hour labors or longer, so I felt EXTREMELY lucky.
You would think things calm down once the baby arrives, but that's not true. As soon as she was born, she was weighed, measured and put on my chest for a little skin to skin time. Wanting to take advantage of those first moments, I immediately tried breastfeeding, and surprisingly, she seemed to already have an understanding of what she was supposed to do. She was then bathed, examined further, and Kyle got his skin to skin time with her. By the time family was actually able to come into our room, it was after four. For those who sat around the waiting room for hours on end, please consider this my formal apology. Havin' babies takes A LOT of time.
After everyone left, we were (FINALLY!) moved to our postnatal room and Kyle set off to get me something to eat. Thank goodness, the beautiful golden arches resided in our hospital. He got me a sausage biscuit, hash browns and a large coke, and OH MY WORD, that had to have been the best meal I've ever eaten in my entire life. Seriously, I could write a new blog post on how miraculous food tastes after labor. OMG. I'm getting hungry just writing about it.
As crazy as this sounds, for months after her birth, I caught myself wanting to relive the entire experience - pain and all. Giving birth, in my opinion, is the most selfless thing a woman can do. I went through the worst pain I've ever experienced because I desperately wanted to meet my daughter. I gave every ounce of strength I had in me to get her in my arms as soon as possible, because the idea of keeping her in my stomach for a moment longer was far more unbearable than the pain of giving birth to her. This entire paragraph probably sounds conceited, and maybe it is, but I've never felt stronger, calmer, or more content in my entire life than I did when Kyle and I brought Lyla into the world. On that day, I became a mother and Kyle became a father. Everything changed for the better. It was the most beautiful experience, and I can't imagine anything coming close to what I felt on the day we welcomed Lyla into our family.
I was seven days past my due date, and I was MISERABLE. (PSA: If your doctor tells you that you will go into labor early, just know fate will have you being late. That's just how it works - ask anyone). I was starting my second year teaching special education at a local middle school, and I had quickly grown tired (literally) of walking up and down long hallways all.day.long. I stuck it out for as long as I could and smiled through coworkers asking every day, "You haven't gone into labor yet?!" I have to admit, I was wondering the same thing. Where was this baby?!
On that seventh day, Kyle and I headed to the OBGYN to get checked for progress. We packed our hospital bags in the car and dropped off our dog, Raleigh, at the in laws - just in case. The midwife checked me, and praise sweet baby Jesus, I was dilated to a three. YES! But I still technically wasn't in labor. The midwife couldn't believe I hadn't gone into labor on my own yet, but I guess Lyla is stubborn (like her parents). The midwife monitored the baby's heart rate for 30 minutes and checked her fluid levels, and thankfully, decided that I didn't need to wait any longer. She told me to grab a light lunch and head to the hospital.
To be honest, this wasn't at all how I imagined this happening. I assumed I would have the slow beginnings of labor in the comfort of my own home, like all the forums described. WRONG. I didn't want to be induced but couldn't stand the idea of waiting a moment longer to meet my daughter, so I didn't protest.
Kyle and I decided to grab some Publix subs before we headed to the hospital. Mine was plain jane turkey with a little mayo (I was trying to eat bland foods so I wouldn't get sick later - epic fail, y'all). I managed to choke down half the sandwich and some fruit despite my excitement/nervousness, wrapped up the other half to take with us, and headed to the hospital.
On the way there, Kyle was giddy and excited while I was quiet and reflective. I was trying to wrap my mind around what was about to occur. All the planning, research, prayers, appointments, baby showers, all of it came down to this day. It was time. Holy freaking crap.
Within 30 minutes of arriving at the hospital, we were taken back to our delivery room. It was massive with beautiful cherry hardwood floors, space for Kyle to sleep and even a flat screen TV. Kyle and I don't have cable, and as silly as it sounds, I was pretty excited to be able to watch HGTV while I was laboring. A full day with Chip and Joanna AND room service -am I about to give birth, or am I on vacation?
Our room could easily fit plenty of our family members and good thing, because we were already growing a fan base in the waiting room eager to meet LC. It was a busy afternoon in the Labor and Delivery Unit, so I only saw a nurse once every hour or two. Eventually, someone finally came in and hooked me up to my first Pitocin dose (affectionately nicknamed Devil's Juice, if that tells you anything).
For those few hours following my first dose, I felt nothing. Literally nothing. My nurse would look on the monitor, see a contraction, and I wouldn't even know it had happened. Kyle smiled at me and said, "maybe you're a lot stronger than you think you are. Maybe your body is handling the contractions like a champ." I smiled back and hoped for the best, but I was pretty sure the hard part had yet to arrive. In the mean time, we had family come into the room. We socialized, laughed and killed time for about an hour. In fact, I was feeling so good that I wolfed down the other half of my sandwich despite the nurse telling me not to eat anything. What can I say? This mama-to-be was HANGRY.
Finally, they decided to double my dose. I started to feel some pain, so I sent my family back out into the waiting room and prepared myself for what was to come. I was hurting but still able to talk through the contractions. Soon afterward, the midwife came in and broke my water (which, for the record, is completely disgusting. I felt like I had peed on myself). That's when things got intense.
Simply put, the midwife was wonderfully witty. She helped me to laugh through my pain and even feel calm during the entire labor. She told me that I was a star patient and the only momma to-be on the hallway that was having a "textbook labor." I wasn't sure if she was lying or not, but I definitely felt so blessed to not have any stresses or scares like a lot of other moms have.
A piece of advice I was given (and had intended to follow) was to ask for the epidural when things got extremely painful but not completely unbearable. I was there. I had dilated to a 5 and turned to my nurse and announced "I'm ready for the epidural!" She gave me a confused look and replied, "Really? Already?"
Uh...just kidding? I felt like such a wimp! I needed to be a warrior mama and endure this labor for a little longer, so I settled for a dose of fentanyl. At best, this medicine took the edge off for a grand total of fifteen minutes and made me get dizzy and throw up in the process. I was in completely unbearable pain afterwards.
Lyla was sunny side up, so I had 100% back labor. I didn't feel a single contraction in my stomach. Bluntly put, it felt like someone was trying to rip my lower back in half. When I told my nurse about my contractions, she laughed and said she would rather have 100 normal labors over one back labor. Well good, now I feel better!
What happens next is a little hazy. I remember writhing on the bed calling out to God to help me. I didn't care who saw or heard me. I remember briefly opening my eyes and seeing my always calm and collected husband look utterly terrified. I honestly think he was on the verge of calling in an exorcist. It was NOT pretty.
By the time the anesthesiologist arrived (my new BFF), I was dilated to a seven. I was completely unconcerned about the giant needle that I had been dreading going into my spine. I just needed relief as soon as possible.
The anesthesiologist was a petite, pretty young blonde, who we were certain was far too young to have such a stressful job, but I quickly brushed off my initial judgements and gladly took the epidural. Man, those things are amazing. Up until a few weeks before labor, I had considered forgoing the epidural. I have SO much respect for the mamas who choose to do without, because honestly, that takes guts and a ton of perseverance. The unspeakable pain I was feeling quickly turned into a strong thump in my lower back every 30 seconds or so. My nurse told me to get some rest while I still could, so I tried to fall asleep. Unfortunately, those strong thumps caused too much pressure in my lower back for me to take a catnap, so they upped the epidural. By the time I was actually drugged enough to get some shut eye, the midwife came in and checked me. I had dilated to a ten.
Because the midwife had so many other patients that night, she told me she would be back in about a half a hour. I checked the clock, and it was around 10:30. Oh man, Lyla may actually be born on 8/16/16! No way anyone could forget that birthday! Fast forward an hour later, the midwife finally returned. Time to push!
(I'll skip the lovely details of that part of the story).
A mere 30 minutes later, at 12:03 in the morning, Lyla was born, weighing in at 8 pounds 12 ounces and 21 and a half inches long. 8/17/16. I still maintain she should have been born on 8/16 and blame it on the tardiness of the midwife. Immediately, Lyla's identifier with the L&D staff was "the baby with all the hair." Yup, that was our wild headed baby, and we couldn't have been prouder to claim her.
In total, my entire labor from starting pitocin to giving birth was around 7.5-8 hours. I've heard of plenty of first time moms who endured twenty four hour labors or longer, so I felt EXTREMELY lucky.
You would think things calm down once the baby arrives, but that's not true. As soon as she was born, she was weighed, measured and put on my chest for a little skin to skin time. Wanting to take advantage of those first moments, I immediately tried breastfeeding, and surprisingly, she seemed to already have an understanding of what she was supposed to do. She was then bathed, examined further, and Kyle got his skin to skin time with her. By the time family was actually able to come into our room, it was after four. For those who sat around the waiting room for hours on end, please consider this my formal apology. Havin' babies takes A LOT of time.
After everyone left, we were (FINALLY!) moved to our postnatal room and Kyle set off to get me something to eat. Thank goodness, the beautiful golden arches resided in our hospital. He got me a sausage biscuit, hash browns and a large coke, and OH MY WORD, that had to have been the best meal I've ever eaten in my entire life. Seriously, I could write a new blog post on how miraculous food tastes after labor. OMG. I'm getting hungry just writing about it.
As crazy as this sounds, for months after her birth, I caught myself wanting to relive the entire experience - pain and all. Giving birth, in my opinion, is the most selfless thing a woman can do. I went through the worst pain I've ever experienced because I desperately wanted to meet my daughter. I gave every ounce of strength I had in me to get her in my arms as soon as possible, because the idea of keeping her in my stomach for a moment longer was far more unbearable than the pain of giving birth to her. This entire paragraph probably sounds conceited, and maybe it is, but I've never felt stronger, calmer, or more content in my entire life than I did when Kyle and I brought Lyla into the world. On that day, I became a mother and Kyle became a father. Everything changed for the better. It was the most beautiful experience, and I can't imagine anything coming close to what I felt on the day we welcomed Lyla into our family.
Thursday, March 24, 2016
Answered Prayers
Hello!
I know I write on my blog pretty sporadically nowadays, so here's a quick update:
1. I'M PREGNANT!
2. It's a girl! Due August 9th.
3. Her name is Lyla!
4. She is the greatest miracle.
At our anatomy ultrasound (18 to 20 weeks), we went with anticipation that everything would turn up normal with the baby. Kyle and I are both young, we never smoked, hardly drank, and had no genetic disorders in our family history. Shouldn't a person with those credentials be the poster child for a healthy, easy pregnancy? The short answer - not always.
The evening after the ultrasound, I received a call from my doctor that went a little something like this...
"Now, I don't want you to be worried, but..."
CUE THE WORRY.
Lyla had two cysts on her brain. He also mentioned something about a heart valve the radiologist couldn't see, but by that point, I was so overcome with worry that the rest of his words all blurred together.
"Something's wrong with the baby..." is all I could replay in my mind.
After an hour of what felt like endless tears, confusion, and googling, I texted my mom with the news. I asked her to pray. I asked her to tell every prayer warrior she knew to do the same. Within 24 hours, all of mine and Kyle's extended family, friends, and even acquaintances were praying over this little life.
I asked Mom to pray big, specific prayers. I told her to ask God to take away the cysts, or at the very least, make them decrease significantly. I asked her to pray that the baby's heart valve was fine.
The following day, after I had some time to calm down, I emailed my doctor with a million questions. Normally, the doctor would take a few days to respond. Fast forward three hours, I had a new email with an answered prayer inside.
He informed me that the missing heart valve was actually just a poorly taken picture that needed to be redone. The valve was there and intact. Thank you Jesus.
Now the hard part came - waiting a week for an appointment with a perinatologist (high risk doctor) to investigate the cysts. Research on my part revealed that the cysts, with no other abnormalities, were relatively normal. In all likelihood, the baby would turn out fine. If she had any additional abnormalities, however, it hinted at a chromosomal disorder - namely, Trisomy 18. To make a long story short, babies with T-18 rarely make it to the birth. If they are born, they are often stillborn. Talk about a mother's worst nightmare.
It was difficult finding comfort in the potential outcomes. On one hand, the baby could turn out normal. On the other, the baby probably wouldn't leave the hospital. Where do you find a resting spot between those two options?
Fast forward an agonizing seven days, we were finally at the doctor's office. The main thing we were looking for on the ultrasound was the baby opening her hands. With T-18, the baby's hands stay permanently clenched. We knew if we saw her hands open, the likelihood of her having the disorder was slim to none. And this is what we saw...
Lyla waved, gave us peace signs, and did "jazz hands" the entire ultrasound. No question about it - Trisomy 18 seemed extremely unlikely. Thank you Jesus!
As for the cysts, one of them was already COMPLETELY dissolved. in less than a week. how unreal! The doctor then went a step further and explained all other potential abnormalities and then showed us evidence on the ultrasound to prove that she didn't have them (ex - cleft palate, heart defects, spina bifida, etc). We left the office feeling SO relieved, confident and joyful. Our baby girl was completely healthy.
Talk about big prayers yielding bigger results. Do yourself a favor - don't ever question if prayer works or if God actually hears us. He hears every single prayer and responds in his own way. So, so thankful.
I know I write on my blog pretty sporadically nowadays, so here's a quick update:
1. I'M PREGNANT!
2. It's a girl! Due August 9th.
3. Her name is Lyla!
4. She is the greatest miracle.
At our anatomy ultrasound (18 to 20 weeks), we went with anticipation that everything would turn up normal with the baby. Kyle and I are both young, we never smoked, hardly drank, and had no genetic disorders in our family history. Shouldn't a person with those credentials be the poster child for a healthy, easy pregnancy? The short answer - not always.
The evening after the ultrasound, I received a call from my doctor that went a little something like this...
"Now, I don't want you to be worried, but..."
CUE THE WORRY.
Lyla had two cysts on her brain. He also mentioned something about a heart valve the radiologist couldn't see, but by that point, I was so overcome with worry that the rest of his words all blurred together.
"Something's wrong with the baby..." is all I could replay in my mind.
After an hour of what felt like endless tears, confusion, and googling, I texted my mom with the news. I asked her to pray. I asked her to tell every prayer warrior she knew to do the same. Within 24 hours, all of mine and Kyle's extended family, friends, and even acquaintances were praying over this little life.
I asked Mom to pray big, specific prayers. I told her to ask God to take away the cysts, or at the very least, make them decrease significantly. I asked her to pray that the baby's heart valve was fine.
The following day, after I had some time to calm down, I emailed my doctor with a million questions. Normally, the doctor would take a few days to respond. Fast forward three hours, I had a new email with an answered prayer inside.
He informed me that the missing heart valve was actually just a poorly taken picture that needed to be redone. The valve was there and intact. Thank you Jesus.
Now the hard part came - waiting a week for an appointment with a perinatologist (high risk doctor) to investigate the cysts. Research on my part revealed that the cysts, with no other abnormalities, were relatively normal. In all likelihood, the baby would turn out fine. If she had any additional abnormalities, however, it hinted at a chromosomal disorder - namely, Trisomy 18. To make a long story short, babies with T-18 rarely make it to the birth. If they are born, they are often stillborn. Talk about a mother's worst nightmare.
It was difficult finding comfort in the potential outcomes. On one hand, the baby could turn out normal. On the other, the baby probably wouldn't leave the hospital. Where do you find a resting spot between those two options?
Fast forward an agonizing seven days, we were finally at the doctor's office. The main thing we were looking for on the ultrasound was the baby opening her hands. With T-18, the baby's hands stay permanently clenched. We knew if we saw her hands open, the likelihood of her having the disorder was slim to none. And this is what we saw...
 |
| Hi, Momma! |
Lyla waved, gave us peace signs, and did "jazz hands" the entire ultrasound. No question about it - Trisomy 18 seemed extremely unlikely. Thank you Jesus!
As for the cysts, one of them was already COMPLETELY dissolved. in less than a week. how unreal! The doctor then went a step further and explained all other potential abnormalities and then showed us evidence on the ultrasound to prove that she didn't have them (ex - cleft palate, heart defects, spina bifida, etc). We left the office feeling SO relieved, confident and joyful. Our baby girl was completely healthy.
Talk about big prayers yielding bigger results. Do yourself a favor - don't ever question if prayer works or if God actually hears us. He hears every single prayer and responds in his own way. So, so thankful.
Sunday, October 25, 2015
How God is using my anxiety
For those who don't know me that well or have never looked at my blog, you should know that I struggle with anxiety and stress and have struggled with it since I was a kid. With this being my first year as a teacher, that anxiety has increased tenfold.
For a while, I questioned my faith. Clearly I couldn't truly be trusting God if I was having all these anxious feelings constantly, right?
But I read something interesting today. In the article, "How God can use your anxiety for good," the author states the following:
"'When we discourage from safely expressing their anxiety, then we are essentially saying to them that anxiety is a bad emotion …. It communicates to them that perhaps something is wrong with their Christian faith.' Smith goes on to talk about how God may be using anxiety to draw us closer to him, allowing us to recognize our need and limitations as anchors to the One who is sufficient."
I thought about what I had just read. It's true, my anxiety has reached new highs this year that I've never experienced before. What's also true, however, is that I never stop praying because of it. Literally, when I wake up multiple times throughout the night, half asleep with my heart pounding for no apparent reason, I start praying. It's no longer something I think to do; it just happens. It's become as natural as breathing for me. I ask for God's help. I ask him to walk with me and guide me through these overwhelming times.
God is using my anxiety as a tool to bring me closer to him. And that makes it all worth it.
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Dear new teacher, you're awesome.
Being a new teacher is really hard, y'all. and intimidating. and stressful. and slightly terrifying. There have been many days when I leave school in a complete daze - my husband wants to know how my day went, and typically all I can muster is a few mumbles about accommodations and data collection. Again, IT'S HARD.
What is incredibly easy, however, is to dwell on all the things you don't understand, all your short comings, or how you weren't able to get through to that kid in your third period. Today, I'm choosing to focus on the good. Here are some positive things that have happened to me in my first month of teaching:
1. I'm working with some incredible people who have welcomed me into their circle from the moment I met them. Morale is HIGH at my school; how many teachers can say that?
2. Some kids like me enough to high five me in the hallways. BAM.
3. I got through my first walk through without passing out, and even better, was rated proficient!
4. I've been able to "get through" to kids who are sometimes unreachable, both academically and emotionally.
5. THE KIDS ARE GETTING SO CLOSE TO SAYING MY LAST NAME RIGHT. Yes, all caps was necessary.
6. I've strengthened my ability to work and communicate with others. I'm an introvert through and through, so this is big for me!
7. I have learned something new every single day.
8. I have successfully taught math lessons (the 12 year old version of myself is in awe at this turn of events).
9. I am learning to put the needs of others before my own.
10. As a teacher, I am serving an invaluable purpose in these kids' lives!
If I could give any advice to all the new teachers out there, it would be this: focus on the little victories. You are doing better than you think!
What is incredibly easy, however, is to dwell on all the things you don't understand, all your short comings, or how you weren't able to get through to that kid in your third period. Today, I'm choosing to focus on the good. Here are some positive things that have happened to me in my first month of teaching:
1. I'm working with some incredible people who have welcomed me into their circle from the moment I met them. Morale is HIGH at my school; how many teachers can say that?
2. Some kids like me enough to high five me in the hallways. BAM.
3. I got through my first walk through without passing out, and even better, was rated proficient!
4. I've been able to "get through" to kids who are sometimes unreachable, both academically and emotionally.
5. THE KIDS ARE GETTING SO CLOSE TO SAYING MY LAST NAME RIGHT. Yes, all caps was necessary.
6. I've strengthened my ability to work and communicate with others. I'm an introvert through and through, so this is big for me!
7. I have learned something new every single day.
8. I have successfully taught math lessons (the 12 year old version of myself is in awe at this turn of events).
9. I am learning to put the needs of others before my own.
10. As a teacher, I am serving an invaluable purpose in these kids' lives!
If I could give any advice to all the new teachers out there, it would be this: focus on the little victories. You are doing better than you think!
Monday, July 6, 2015
Vegas Recap
Blogger? Is that you?
I haven't posted anything in forever it seems! I've been preparing for the upcoming school year, and that, among other things, has gotten in the way of my writing. I'm back now! :)
A few weeks ago, I went to Vegas with my husband and his family. Kyle's parents (who are incredibly generous) offered to pay for our entire trip: food, flights, hotel, EVERYTHING. They're awesome. It was such an interesting place! I'm not much of a gambler, but I still had a great time. Lucky for us (slightly sarcastic), we were there during the Electric Daisy Carnival, so we were pretty much constantly surrounded by craziness. It made the trip more memorable, though! ;) Here are some photos...
Anyone out there ever been to Vegas? What did you think?!
I haven't posted anything in forever it seems! I've been preparing for the upcoming school year, and that, among other things, has gotten in the way of my writing. I'm back now! :)
A few weeks ago, I went to Vegas with my husband and his family. Kyle's parents (who are incredibly generous) offered to pay for our entire trip: food, flights, hotel, EVERYTHING. They're awesome. It was such an interesting place! I'm not much of a gambler, but I still had a great time. Lucky for us (slightly sarcastic), we were there during the Electric Daisy Carnival, so we were pretty much constantly surrounded by craziness. It made the trip more memorable, though! ;) Here are some photos...
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| Mandalay Bay |
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| All our pools! |
While we were there, we saw Criss Angel's "BeLIEve" show. My husband and his brother are definitely lovers of magic, so this performance was right down their alley. Not gonna lie, it was pretty impressive! I wanted some shots of the actual show, but the security guards were looming down the aisles and threatening to kick people out for taking pictures, so I figured it wasn't worth the risk. What can I say? I'm a rule follower, haha!
Anyone out there ever been to Vegas? What did you think?!
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