Train potty

I flip the calendar over to a new month: September. The summer is ending and we are heading into fall---the smell of crisp leaves on the ground, football, cool breezes during our family walks, pumpkin spice candles, apple orchards, hot coffee, crock pot meals, fleeces, and sweaters. I love all four seasons we get to experience in Wisconsin but fall has to be one of the best. The scents in this cooler air remind me of last year and I can't help but flip through my pictures from September 2011 with a sense of wonder. Was it really just one year ago?

Last year at this time I was over-thinking every twinge in my body, desperately hoping that I was pregnant. Desperate. That is a great word for the Julia of September 2011. I vowed not to test for a few more days but I couldn't get out of my own head. I wanted so badly to be pregnant again. I would say it was bordering on an obsession, really. My head was filled with thoughts on babies and pregnancy tests and ovulation strips and timing and symptoms and hope but fear and plenty of anxiety. Prayers each night requesting a patient heart, His will be done, not mine. And when that Saturday morning finally came, and I allowed my self to test, I could feel the weight of that moment on my shoulders. 'Pregnant'. It was happening again. And Cecelia's tiny being was a matter of a few cells, rapidly multiplying and ready to fight for survival.

My pregnancy journey from the positive test until her birth was....rough at times. Nothing was certain. I was bleeding at six weeks and heard the words, 'I've never seen a bleed this big turn out okay in the end.' I was awaiting another miscarriage. Cecelia wasn't supposed to be sleeping in the swing next to me as I type this. And yet, here she is---every bit the fighter that we saw on that ultrasound screen last year. She's here and she is amazing and truly the most wonderful miracle I've experienced. Words could never fully capture the love I have for my daughter and it seems silly to even try to describe how grateful I am for this little lady. Gratitude. Thankful. And even when my little fighter is fighting any sort of routine, or the bottle, or sleep, and I'm fighting back tears----even then, I wouldn't trade a second of it for the world. She is worth it. I think back to the Julia of September 2011 and remember how badly I ached for our second child. And I'd gladly take the sleepless nights and newborn dramas over the desperation for another pregnancy.

Prior to that magical moment of Cecelia's announcement into the world with a positive test, we had been through some of the most difficult months I could have imagined. And it's those months of grief and mourning and loss and despair that I find myself sorting through a year later. It's not that I think about my miscarriage a lot, and I don't let it get me down too often. I don't want you to think I'm sitting around dwelling on the loss or feeling sorry for myself. But when those memories come back to the surface they still make my heart hurt. Who was baby Wren? Why did it have to happen? Why did I have to have one of the most complicated, prolonged, expensive miscarriages ever? My story still seems like it happened to someone else and as I type it out, or read back over my own posts, I almost feel like it was all a dream. Or a nightmare, I suppose.

My body didn't know the baby's heart stopped beating and I needed medication to get the actual miscarriage going. It was painful. It was scary. It was horrible. I bled for 6 weeks just waiting to fully lose my baby, then had severe hemorrhaging and landed in the ER, where the staff handled my case like crap. Threw out words like 'hysterectomy' and 'large mass' and didn't provide any sort of answers or hope. Then I had the surgery I so badly needed and things started to return to a new normal. And nearly 7k later, with an entire summer of heartbreak, we entered the fall. When I saw the word 'pregnant' and felt a sense of peace, if ever so brief, that the worst was behind us.

I hear the creaking of the swing next to me and glance over at my beautiful baby girl, and I get a little choked up. Tears welling up in my eyes show me that again, it was all worth it to have Cecelia here with us. If Wren had been our number two we'd never have the privilege of meeting Cece---and that would be the biggest loss of all. But it still hurts to remember the path we took to get on the other side of loss.

My heart breaks for every other woman going through the motions of life after a loss. Miscarriage is everywhere and each time I read about it, or hear about it, I feel angry that it happens so much. It's not fair. It's so sad. But life does go on. It will get better.

A year later, we are living the life with two kids that I dreamed about for so long. It's happening. It's real. SHE'S real. We're on the other side of a loss. And I'm at a loss for words to accurately reflect my gratitude. And so I simply give my sleeping baby a kiss and say a prayer of thanks.

She's worth it.

I miss blogging and am craving an outlet for my rambling, you guys. Life updates, stream of consciousness, a way to get all of the thoughts out of my head and into semi-cohesive sentences....I miss it all. So please oblige me as I type away without a real topic.

I've been blogging at this domain since 2007. For nine years this corner of the internet has been mine, and it began as a place for a newlywed in a new state to update friends and family on life happenings. In those nine years I've changed as have my posts. There have been new jobs, three children, a new house, thoughts on motherhood, finding a balance with all of the roles I hold, and a million other stories that I enjoy over-sharing with strangers. I love the feedback I get from my readers. I feel a strong sense of 'I totally get it, I'm going through that, too,' with you guys. Blogging is certainly not for everyone and yes, it's sort of 'out' compared to all of the other social media outlets these days. Probably 90% of my blog friends are no longer blogging at this point. There are plenty of big wigs out there, with beautifully groomed photos and helpful posts, still utilizing their blogs for a specific business purpose. But the average 'let me tell you about my life' blogs seem to be dwindling if not extinct. I am basically a geriatric blogger at this point, but I'm owning it and moving forward in my archaic state.

I am not tapping out from my blog days just yet. I certainly don't feel the pressure to post every day or even every week, which is freeing and fits in much better with my other responsibilities. But I want to mention the fact that I still value this space and hope to write more often.

Life is good lately. It's wild and hectic and ear-piercingly loud, but it's good. I've been feeling antsy at my job, after being there for five years. I'm not sure what the next step is with my career but I feel like I can offer more than what I'm doing currently. I just don't want to lose my flexibility and I don't want to work full time....so there's that. ;)

We are talking a lot about building an addition onto our house, so much of my days at home are spent calling and emailing contractors, architects, banks, loan officers, etc. It's super exciting and also terrifying.

Nate is on track to launch his own business, finding his passion in his career. He's already dropped his hours at his primary job to make room for his side gig that will hopefully become the main gig. His focus will be on golf, and specifically Physical Therapy for golfers (but also non-golfers, can't be too exclusive). He really wants to make golf for kids a huge thing in our area, so Juniors development will be a main goal. I am so stinking excited for him and of course a little nervous because starting a business is a total leap of faith. I have faith in Nate though, he is truly one of the best Physical Therapists in our area and his patients are obsessed with him----a really great start. Shameless plug: if you are local and know anyone who loves to play golf, is injured, or wants to improve their game you should absolutely check out Pure Golf Performance. The website is a work in progress and I'm attempting to be their social media manager, so any support would be much appreciated. (End of plug).

The kids are getting so freaking big it's just disgusting. And awesome. But it still makes me a little panicky when they keep growing out of their pants in a single season. Truman is literally up to my chest. Cecelia is 95% legs. Porter is 0% baby and 100% two year old boy. See, this would be a nice topic to divide up into separate blog posts, but for now I'm just going to show you some of the DIY photoshoot I did for our Christmas cards. I'm pretty stinking proud of how the images turned out. Top secret tip: bribing them with Halloween candy still works. Capitalizing on nice sunshine at 11am in our backyard, along with some new semi-dressy outfits (thank you, Hanna Andersson), I asked them to take a few pictures with me and they totally knew there would be a sugary reward to follow. We didn't do professional family pictures this year but I'm confident one of these will be just fine for Christmas cards. To show that Nate and I still exist, I'll probably slap a family selfie on the back and call it a win. But these three kids? Showstoppers. I'm throwing it back to 2013 and asking for votes on the best photo for our cards, please!

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Tough call, right?

There are more words to share on the subject of life, but a certain Junior Kindergartener is getting out of school soon. And a certain two year old is stripping down in the corner and might need a diaper change before we go. It's currently 39 degrees and windy outside, which means multiple layers of winter gear and an extra 10 minutes with every excursion. Better be on my way, but it was nice to chat with you again.

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