Meet Emily - The Emotional Roller Coaster of Growing A Family

I feel like being a mother is a constant dichotomy. At one moment, you’re just loving every second of the day and you’re totally present and the next moment you’re ready to run out of the house screaming!

So it’s very confusing. But I've been trying to embrace all of it and not beat myself up about any of it.

I felt infancy and baby years were the hardest because I couldn’t know when I was needed or actually, that I’d be needed for everything!

In the beginning you’re sacrificing every ounce of yourself. You’re sacrificing your time, your sleep, your extra curricular activities.

You’re feeling bad about everything you’re doing. I felt bad when I went to work, I even felt bad when I blowed dried my hair! I would think, I should be with my kids.

As beautiful as it is, building your family is a very stressful, trying season. You can know that you’re in one of the most beautiful seasons of life but because you’re exhausted and stretched beyond your max, it’s hard to enjoy it.

And in order to become a mother, there was a big part of me that had to die. A part of me had to die to itself. Not in a bad way, just in a changing way.

Now my sacrifices have changed in a way that I can manage a bit more. Our kids are a little older now and I have time to do things that are important to me without feeling so bad because I know my kids are okay and they can keep themselves busy.

And I look at those sacrifices differently. Right now, every sacrifice I do willingly because I’ve realized that time is fleeting.

I see how much I want to go back and do things over. I know that with each season that passes, I’m going to wish I could go back and do it better.

So maybe I just need to do it better now. And by better I mean, just lightening up on myself. Letting my kids be kids. Letting me be an imperfect mom. Letting my husband be an imperfect husband. That would help a lot.

We were trying for over a year to decide if we would add to our family. It’s a super hard decision. I would be ready and he wouldn’t be. Then he would be ready and I wouldn’t be.

It was probably the most torn we’ve been in our relationship. It was hard to get on the same page because it’s such a big deal.

But we finally just came to a place of trusting God that He would help us through all the tough times of another baby. And we decided to just go for it.

Last year around this time, I got pregnant. I knew this time what to expect. Our two kids are older and I have a better perspective. My husband was excited and it started to feel right.

At 12 weeks we had a doctor’s appointment and there was no heartbeat.

It affected me more than I had anticipated. To me, this baby was already one of our family that I had been picturing for a long time. I was so sad.

I just felt we were supposed to have another baby. So I got pregnant again and this time we miscarried at 9 weeks, right before Christmas.

I used to cry about it every day.

So this year’s been very emotional, but also kind of beautiful. It’s really taught me about the blessings that are all around me.

It tested our marriage and I’m proud of us. I feel like we modeled what God wants marriage to be because we allowed each other to have our own feelings without expectations. We respected the fact that our feelings were different and that we showed them differently.

I think I took a lot for granted before this and I don’t think I ever will again.

There is beauty in pain, you know?

I feel like I’m just now picking my head up from all of that. It was grief upon grief.

But now, it feels like the sun’s shining again.

I’ve had time to accept what I thought our family should be and isn’t. And I know down the road, God will make sense of it for me.

I don’t have someone on my hip every second, I don’t have a diaper to change, I don’t have a kid waking up in the middle of the night. And 50% of me thinks this is amazing and 50% of me thinks this is wrong.

Regardless of my feelings and thoughts, I know that God is good. I have seen him work through me and my family during times of struggle and times of loss. He has built my confidence and reminded me every step of the way that He is in control and He will provide for me.

It's allowed me to let go of my expectations and desires and accept what He desires for my family......and for me.

The Sugar Keep

My sister got the sugar keep. Each time I saw it in her kitchen, I wanted it. I was young and unmarried when such things were divvied up after my grandparents’ passing. I didn’t have much regard for sentimental things while I was chasing what I thought was my dream. After all, who needs an old glass jar? Yet each time I would visit my sister’s kitchen, there it was.  Its intricate edged glass, its tapered shape, its worn metal flip top lid…the old sugar resting at the bottom.

I wanted it – and she wouldn’t give it. It did fit in with her kitchen - at home with her antique spice tins and miniature tea cups. Why did I yearn for it so?

And then on a special visit last year, the sugar keep became mine in an instant. No begging, no teasing about it “going missing” after my visit….just a cheerful “sure you can have it”! Yeeesssssss, the coveted memento would finally be mine!   

I insured it was packed well. Layers of bubble wrap cradled it on the journey to my home 1200 miles away. When the box arrived – I hurriedly examined the contents. All was well.

“Where would I display it?”,  I pondered. The perfect spot beckoned from a small shelf in the living room. I stood back admiring the arrangement.  A gentle peace washed over my heart….and I remembered.

The table in my grandparents’ kitchen. The sugar keep, the salt and pepper shakers, the butter dish hiding creamy, soft butter beneath its metal cover - all grouped neatly atop the vinyl tablecloth. 

I thought of my Grandmother’s hands as she worked in that tiny kitchen.  She prepared scratch meals for my Grandpa every day. He would come home for lunch to that waiting table. Real meat, real potatoes, real vegetables from their garden.  

He would take his place at the head of that waiting table, my grandmother seated beside him, and they prayed. My grandfather was not a man of many words. And she didn’t expect many. They sat and they ate. Together.  I don’t remember much conversation. Maybe a “good dinner, dear” followed by a quiet “thank you”. It wasn’t necessary. They had commitment…covenant. They were walking through life together – every day. They worked together, prayed together, stayed together. That’s why the sugar keep from their table stirred so much within me. It wasn’t what they said….it was how they lived. That tapered glass jar - a witness now sitting quietly on my shelf. A reminder of lives well lived and a legacy that lives on.