Christmas Decor {2014 Edition}

I think I may need a faux deer intervention.

I have zero desire for a taxidermy real, strange glass eye type of deer hanging in my house but I can't seem to get enough faux deer. At last count, I think I have 4 in my home. Oh dear.

The most recent is a paper mache friend on my fireplace. 

He makes me happy, all festive and farmhouse lookin'.

When we finished decorating, Abby told me it looks like we were living in the Stoney Creek Inn. I am just going to assume that is a compliment.

Of all the holiday decor, my most favorite is Addy's tree. 

 Last year, I purchased a couple ornaments that I felt reflected my beloved, made a few more, and then was gifted a couple to round out my collection. It made this momma's heart so happy to rediscover each ornament this year.

I can't get enough of the sparkly lights, garland galore, or my fireplace friend.

Happy holiday decorating to you all!

Dating {Part III...I guess}

You know what I don't like doing? Flossing.  

I dislike it so much that I may or may not only floss two weeks out of the year.

Naturally, if I floss the week before I go to the dentist, my hygienist won't realize that I don't floss the other 50 weeks out of the year. I work with people who stash those little flossing sticks in the their desk drawer and after lunch they get to picking. Kudos to them but it is just not my jam. Why? I have no idea but it's not.

That has nothing to do with this blog post other then to talk about my recent trip to the dentist.  But, aren't you glad to know such an interesting tidbit about me? 

No? Then just erase that from your memory.

Ok, back to the dentist. 

I have been going to the same dentist for the last five years. Same dentist with the same hygienist. So recently when I checked in, I was perplexed when the receptionist explained that my hygienist is no longer with the office and that I would be getting my pearly whites cleaned by someone else. 

It is always rather odd when they ask questions that require more than just a simple yes or no with your mouth wide open and that blessed floss being strung through your teeth. Nonetheless, the new hygienist was asking the basic 'get to know you' questions. 

Job. Kids. Marriage status. Oh how I love these questions. 

She appeared to be around my age and I was pretty proud of her for asking such bold follow-up questions after my surprising answers to her basic questions. When I answered that I was divorced, she was bold enough to ask why. Most shy away after my answers catch them off guard so when she was brave enough to dig deeper, I shared. Knowing that I was there for my teeth and not therapy, I spared her all the details but I gave her an honest rendition of how my past two years unfolded. And after I did, I thanked her for being bold enough to ask. I don't know why it made such an impact but it did. I just really appreciate honest and real conversations and that we had (or I could have just been stalling and hoping she would skip a few sections needing plaque scrapping).

The conversation continued and she asked about my dating life.

I explained how I went on one blind date and one second date with a really nice guy and then promptly retired from blind dates. Perhaps I will have to come out of retirement at some point but this girl is still holding out for my future spouse to show up on my doorstep already knowing my story. Friends, I believe in miracles more than the Mighty Ducks did. It is scary to sit across the table from a complete stranger. I mean really scary because the truth is it leaves me vulnerable to how they embrace my story. So tap your hockey stick against the ice, together let us form the 'v', and in unison quack...quack...quack.

I am at peace with where my life is at the present. I have pulled my floundering fins from the mound of brokenness that once felt all consuming. I feel refreshed, rejuvenated, and oh so redeemed. Perfect, completely whole, freed from all difficult days? Certainly not. And I don't think I ever will be. Because even when I am 80, there will still be triggers. Moments when I vividly remember kissing the lips of my lifeless child one last time. There will be moments when that familiar drop in my stomach hits as I am reminded of a fond memory that is no more. Those triggers will come next week, next year, and all the years to come. Forever. 

But those pings are a beautiful result of a love so deep. And I embrace them as a reminder that I am a momma who did the best she knew for her child and as reminder of the innocence of a sixteen year old dreamer who had yet to fathom the complexity of life.

When there were no spaces left to floss, the hygienist whom I had met a mere 52 minutes before asked if I would reconsider my retirement from blind dates because she has a brother. Oh Lord.  If not now, she assured me she was going to ask again when I come back in six months.

I smiled as I walked out of the office at the way my life has played out. 

This isn't how it was supposed to be. This isn't how I envisioned it. 

But this is me. This is my story. 

Once so deeply broken yet being so faithfully mended.

Tis' great redemption that leaves me surprisingly excited to see how life unfolds from here. 

quack...quack...quack

Africa Bound {Abby That Is}...

Guys...Do you know my little sis/running buddy/roomie for life?

You know, the one who keeps appearing in all my pictures because she is my right hand {wo}man? Well, she is about to take a big leap of faith. Not a little nudge or casual frolic but a giant jump!  

Friends, she is headed to Africa! 
I refuse to say moving because as a part of her lease to live with me, she committed to forever. So someday she will be coming home but for the time being, she is packing her bags and faithfully headed where the Lord is leading her. 

As I read a letter she wrote about her upcoming mission, I could not be more excited and proud and filled with hope. 


"Have you ever had a dream that felt so big you wondered if it would ever become reality?
Maybe a dream that you knew wasn’t yours but was from the Creator of dreams?"


She dreamed big. Real big and real bold.

And where most might shy away out of fear or find an excuse to cover the calling, she raised her hand and said "here I am." And so, she is going to live out a dream, a perfectly cultivated dream.

In February, Abby will begin a three month long internship for Abide Family Center in Uganda. Can we just take that in for a moment...Uganda people! 
Uganda-be-kidding-me.

The mission of Abide is to empower families by equipping them with tools to stay together and ultimately keep the children out of orphanages. Through the organization, Abby will be working to bring children and families hope and joy though programming activities where they learn skills to improve their quality of life. A-maz-ing. 

Will you join me and faithfully praying for Abby while she serves?

I have already begun praying for the logistics of planning, the finances, and the international travels. I have been praying for unity amongst the team she will be serving with, for the
the hearts of the families she will be encountering, and for the mission set forth through Abide. But mostly, I have been praying for God to use Abby in big, big ways.

Look out friends, she is fierce and passionate and ready.
And as her biggest sister, I could not be more proud.

----

If you are interested in financially supporting Abby as she serves the people of Uganda,
you can visit her funding site here. 

Addy Lane Creations

Abby and I recently participated in our first craft show!  She spent many hours on the sewing machine making headbands and ear warmers and I spent many hours trying on all her designs! 

The craft show was extra special for me because we partnered with Addy Lane Creations. Say what? That is right, there is a little business named after my beloved.

Addy Lane Creations, was started by a crafty mom and daughter duo. The mom of the pair was a former co-worker of mine turned great friend. On what would have been my Addy's first birthday, the duo gave me a personalized light-up block.

 The joy that came from that very block was their inspiration to start a business and asked if they could name it after my beloved. And so, Addy Lane Creations was formed. 

 To say I was touched would be an understatement. With each purchase Addy's memory lives on, her story is shared, and her momma’s mission for Addy to be remembered fulfilled.

They make custom blocks for wedding, baby, or birthday gifts. 

They also made super cute fall pumpkin blocks, snowman themed blocked, and blocks supporting various sports teams. They are great for decorating or as a nightlight like mine. 

I adore the duo and the blocks they make. 
I love the passion they have for crafting and their way of honoring the life of my Addy. 

Decking the Halls

Last year, I survived Christmas. 

There were no perfectly picked cards mailed out. No stockings were hung and no lights at this home were strung. There wasn't even a tree. Not a real one, not an artificial, not a tree at all. In fact, I don't even think there was Christmas music because it was more than I could bear.

With an empty home, an impending divorce, and a child so deeply longed for, there was simply no energy to celebrate. I was absent of joy and excitement and I couldn't even muster the ability to pretend. One more "tis the season of good cheer" quite possible could have sent me over the edge. So, I simply survived. 

I took a three hour nap during my family's Christmas gathering at my grandparent's house  because I didn't have the strength to even converse. And, when my immediate family went to the Plaza for our annual shopping/dinner tradition, despite going late and leaving early, I was nothing short of miserable. There just wasn't anything in me. I was depleted, I was empty, and I was just going to each event to check it off the list and longing for January to come so the holidays were behind me.

 Aly, who had always blasted Christmas music with the passing of Halloween, who loved to bundle up tight in search of the perfect tree in the field, and who tinseled anything that wasn't moving, just wasn't Aly.

Looking back {friends that just a year ago...only a year!}, I just want to hug the person whom I was. That Aly didn't believe that a new normal would come. That Aly didn't think that joy or happiness for Christmas let alone life would ever be felt again. I will forever remember what it felt like to be so broken. What a different a year makes.

My Christmas cards are ready to be mailed out, the carols started the first of November, and come Thanksgiving weekend, this home began to overflow with garland and sparkly lights. 

I know I have said it before, but it can not be said enough...He redeems. I know it to be true because this Christmas season, there is joy, there is hope, and there is peace within me.

Come let us adore Him.

Running With The Sas {Our First Half}

Ladies and Gents...We Did It!

In May, Abby {or 'The Sas' as she is affectionately called} and I ran our first 5k! 

We enjoyed running together so much that we decided to dream bigger and began training for a half marathon. Neither of us fancy ourselves to be runners nor did we even think in our wildest dreams that we could run for two solid hours, but we did!

 We didn't follow a set training schedule nor did we set out to obtain any records, we just wanted to prove to ourselves that we could run a Half Marathon. 

We had pretty perfect running weather and the best fan club we could have asked for. 

They were loud and encouraging and it made me smile to see them.

{Abby really did enjoy the run, not so much this particular incline.}

And with us always, my beloved daughter. 

She has made me stronger than I ever knew I could be.

I am pretty darn proud of us. 

I could not have asked for a better sister/roomie/running buddy! 

She keeps me grounded yet motivated and I adore her. 

Off to train for a marathon {just kidding Sas}. 

I am just giddy that we ran 13.1 miles...check that off the Year29 Bucket List!

Thank You for Sharing...

When I first learned of his affair, I was not sure how or even if I would openly share. 

There was a fine line between over sharing and casting stones while balancing being authentic and protecting the innocence of my deceased child. 

It took me months...and several drafts mind you...to put my shock factor feelings aside and turn my true feelings into cohesive thoughts. And for the record, he read and we discussed the post before I published because I wanted to be open with him before I put it out there for the interworlds to know. 

I shared to free myself from hiding, to lay it all out, and to be downright real.

What I never considered was how my story would impact others.

I didn't start my blog for any other motive then to just write about me. 
This is my journal where I write out life as I live it.

In the past eight months after sharing my story, so many have reached out to me to share that they too battled infidelity. There is refuge in knowing that on some level, someone understands. Some remained together while others are left with a crumbled marriage and a divorce decree. Some are years removed, while others are knee deep in the midst. Some were newly married while others had been together a lifetime. Some were pregnant (no, I am not alone!), some have young kids at home, and some have kids that have their own kids. With each story, my heart breaks.

I catch myself gasping, "What is wrong with people?"

And then wanting to shout, "You vowed to FORSAKE all others not FORNICATE with others."
 I guess I can see how you could confuse those two words because they both start with f...#UmmNotAtAll.
Sorry, was that too far? Please accept my apologies if I crossed the line. Forgiveness is a work in progress.

It makes my heart ache to look into the eyes of those who just learned of the affair and feel their fresh pain. To see them battle self confidence, and raw anger, a broken heart, and be left yearning for the life they thought they knew. 

 What a broken world we live in. 

I, in no way claim to be an expert. I don't have it all figured out nor do I always have good days. 
But, opening up has stirred up conversations that I think need to be had. Authentic and real conversations about life.

So, to those who have reached out to me to share your own battle, I just want to say thank you. 
Thank you for being brave and honest about how hard life can be.

I feel your pain.

I see the emptiness in your eyes.

And though our stories may not be identical, I sense your hurt.

But more so, Jesus knows your pain, your emptiness, and your hurt.

In the face of my healing, I continue to cling to the hope promised in Jeremiah 29:11.

I am certain that God has a plan bigger than I can comprehend. And though it doesn't always feel like you will surface or ever utter the words 'it is well,' I believe in the promise of a future...for me...and for you.

So friends, keep your heads up. 

Surround yourself with those who support you in the muck.

And cling to faith in a Creator that is capable of redemption grander than we can fathom.

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day

Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. 

And, I am not alone.

 

I stopped counting the number of momma's that I know that have lost babies when all my fingers were full. That is a lot of mommas just in my life who have felt the pain of loss whether that be a miscarriage, still birth, or infant death. Knowing that I am not alone, I turned to my fellow grieving friends and asked them to share their deepest struggles and what they desire for others to know. 

Our stories are different...expected loss opposed to unexpected loss or stillbirth in comparison to infant death, just to name a few...but this day is to recognize each baby who is longed for. Forever their absence will be felt.

----- 

"The obvious answer to the question of what has been the most difficult is the moment we were told that our beautiful daughter would not be with us for long.  No matter how long she did stay, it would never be as long as we wanted.  But we found that was just the start of a different part of our lives, the end of “Before-Maisy” time.  So within our new journey, the hardest choice for my husband and I was how to balance the desire to tell others (family, friends, etc.) about Maisy’s progress without getting the extreme reaction.  We chose to carry her and were blessed to have almost 9 months with her safely cocooned in our love.  We wanted to celebrate her milestones even if they were always shared with an asterisk, *yes we know she is still very sick but today was a good day in perspective of all the possibilities*.  We often didn’t get that chance.  If we said she sure was moving a lot or she was super cute in her ultrasound pictures people would respond with either the “she’s still sick right?” or they would change the subject.  We talked about her every day in our little family and hardly at all outside of that, our little way of protecting her from people’s thoughts or comments.  It evolved into not letting others inside our small circle and not having enough support when we really needed some extra strength shared by those around us.  I would tell my best friend how much I appreciated her asking the “normal” questions about the pregnancy and Maisy, not because she wasn’t aware of what the bigger picture was, but because she had so much faith in things bigger than any of us here on earth that she just assumed none of us really knows what will happen the next day and therefore we can simply enjoy the moment we’re in, we can live just that moment.  Our other children were so innocent in their understanding and their acceptance, we truly envied this.  They would pray with us every day that we would be blessed with meeting our little girl and yet they accepted that this might not happen.  Sharing each milestone with them was nothing but joy because there was no asterisk for them, it was just what their little sister was doing that day. 

 

Looking back now this is also the one thing that still greatly bothers me, not sharing more of her earthly journey while I carried her.  We all want to shout from the highest point about our children and our love for them.  Choosing to be quiet then has lead me to be louder now.  I bring her or her name or anything about her up whenever I have the chance.  I make sure to always celebrate her now, even though I didn’t always know how to do it then."

----

One of the most dearest people whom I have met through Alexandra's House, like me grieves a daughter but her journey is so very different than mine. Her daughter, Mia, was healthy yet stillborn as a result of a full term cord injury.

"Acceptance that it was real was the hardest facet for me. One minute I had a perfectly healthy baby and the next she was dead. When I got to the hospital, they took me off to a quiet part of the maternity ward. I wanted to be with other momma's. In hindsight, I'm glad I wasn't. I was upset they didn't hook me up to heart rate monitors. I mean, what if they were wrong. What if the sonogram was wrong. Even when holding my baby who wasn't breathing and didn't have a heart beat, I thought this just couldn't be. She was FINE yesterday. How did this happen?"

"What I want others to know is that just because I have another baby, doesn't mean I have moved on or forgotten Mia. I have three daughters even though you only see two. She will always be a part of me and it will always be hard to watch the baby grow up as I will forever think I never got to see this with Mia."

----  

"One of the most difficult aspects of being pregnant with a son who's life was expected to be limited was finding the balance between grief and hope while Jack was still with me. But proving more difficult than that was watching my baby die in my arms. He was born alive and he died. My child whom I had just given life to, died in my arms. And when the time came, we had physically gave my baby over to someone else never to see him. Never in this lifetime will I hold him, touch him, or see him again."

"In the days following death, the pain changes as it morphs into grief. Questioning how the reality of having a deceased child will effect my life forever and trying to come to terms with the new person I have become coupled with the doubts about the decisions made seeping thru. In the face of it all, trying to remain brave and strong when I am not, yet sensing others discomfort when the walls crumble and my true feels surface. There is the struggle to embrace healthy babies, baby shower invitations, and everyday conversations centered around the reality that others with healthy children face...lack of sleep, a fussiness, or the cost of child care. What I would have given to be fretting over 3am feeds, a stretched budget, or having to rock a inconsolable child. Resentment built when it was expected for me to 'get better' and my faith wavered as I tried to grasp God's plan through it all. One minute, I felt ok and the next I was anything but. Sometimes I put on a front just to try to convince myself that I was making it but my heart was never fooled. Despite how I appeared, I was broken, I was empty, and I am anything but whole."

"What I want, is for people to never pause in mentioning him.  I want to talk about him just as I talk about my other children. I want him to be remembered."

-----

For me, the most difficult aspect of my pregnancy,  were the 11 weeks I carried her knowing her prognosis. If I could have hid from the world, I would. In the comfort of my cocoon, I relished my pregnant body but with the obvious came questioning from strangers. Good willed at heart, the innocent questions posed toward a pregnant woman stung because my heart didn't know the excitement of an expected life with a healthy child. Coupled with the difficulty of just being pregnant were the what seemed like never ending decisions that had to be made.  Burial or cremation, whether to wear the heart rate monitor during delivery, the funeral home that would collect her body, the songs to be sung at the memory service, and the selection of the only outfit ever to be worn. How could I decide when I didn't even know what I wanted for myself? What I wanted was to be preparing for my daughter's life not to be planning for her death.

The day of her birth was one of the most incredible yet one of the most unbearable days of my existence. She was born alive and laid upon my chest just like in the movies. She made me a momma and in the blink of an eye, I was handing over her lifeless yet perfectly swaddled body. A moment that will forever be etched into my memory. Was I ready was the question posed. Was I ready for them to take her body? How could I have been. I felt it in my heart as she was carried out the room, a part of my heart left in that moment and it will never be remade whole.

What I want others to know is that it is okay to talk about her and to ask questions. Bringing her up isn't going to make me sad, I already am. Bringing her up acknowledges her existent. I carried her, I birthed her, I held her in my arms, and forever I will mourn her. I just want her to be remember and her life celebrated.

---

"If you know someone who has lost a child or lost anybody who's important to them, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died, they didn't forget they died. You're not reminding them. What you're reminding them of is that you remember that they lived, and that's a great, great gift." - Elizabeth Edwards

 

Words of Affirmation

I remember sitting at a restaurant with my best friend back in March. And, can we pause for a moment and address how simply amazing my bestie is. If there was an award to be given out for the most faithful and dedicated friend, she would hands down take the cake (literally and figuratively). She accepts me regardless of my mood, is on speed dial for vent sessions, has a couch that has a collection of my tears, and a deep love for my Addy despite never being able to meet her. My bestie, she loves well.

Okay, back to our dinner date. I was sharing with her the radical idea that I had conjured. I explained that I had figured out what it was going to take for me to heal from the devastating end to my marriage. I can remember thinking it was going to be the solution, the answer, the way to end the hurt that I had been harboring. 

I was going to ask him to write a letter to me.

I learned a long time ago that my love language is words of affirmation. I save every card that I have been given, file the most touching emails, and screen shot messages that encourage me. So, it made perfect sense to me to ask him to write a letter validating me. I wanted a piece of paper that proved that despite his decision to have an affair that I was a good wife, that I was pretty, that I made him happy, that I was worthy. I thought to myself that this said letter, the very words affirming my role, would hang in my home for others to see and be worn as a coat of armor.  I would carry it around and when I began to doubt myself or when I felt I was being judged because I was 'lacking something that resulted in him choosing to have an affair,' I would be able hold up his words for all the world to read. This letter would allow me to say,  "Yes, my husband had an affair. But look, I was a really good wife." or "Yes, my marriage ended in divorce. But see, these are the things I did well."

As I was explaining this brilliant idea to my best friend, I felt so relieved as I just knew that his validating words would heal me. He broke me and I needed him to fix me.

And so, I called him. 

I reminded him of my love language and shared exactly what I needed him to do. 

I gave bullet points of topics that it would be helpful for him to touch on and that he could end by explaining what he misses the most from the life we spent 12 years building.

Yes, I did that.  I really did. 

And, he agreed.

Four days later , I was reflecting on the weekend that I had just had at Hope Spoken and replaying my conversation. I was anxiously anticipating his healing letter. As I got out of the shower, I had a moment of ultimate clarity so real that it stopped me in my tracts. I looked around and it was just me. 

In a split second, loud and clear I heard the words, "But Aly, to me you are worthy and to me you are enough." They flooded my head and penetrated my soul. Standing alone in a little hotel bathroom, I looked around expecting to see someone uttering the words to me. They were so concise, so convicting, and so liberating.  A defining moment of healing for me. 

This letter that I thought would heal me, would simply be words. 

Empty, broken, weightless words. Regardless of how eloquent, they would be from him and he doesn't define or validate who I am. His actions were independent of my role as his wife and he isn't the foundation of my worth. His words could not heal me, they could not free me, nor could they ever liberate my spirit.

I don't need his letter to validate who I am. 

To the King of Kings, I am worthy and I am enough.
Worthy & Enough. Praise Jesus that he can make all things new.  

------

And for the record, I hesitated to share. But, I was dinning with yet another friend recently (I recognize I am abundantly blessed by the people in my life) and sharing with her how I struggle with meeting new people. It might seem odd given that I share pretty openly on this little blog or on my IG account. But to me, this is safe because if you don't want to read, you would unfollow me or close the window and I would never know. But in person, that isn't the case. Opening up to strangers is scary because it leaves me vulnerable to how they will respond to my story. My dear friend explained to me that perhaps sharing in person or sharing of the most intimate moments of healing would be just what someone else needed to hear. That maybe, just maybe, God would use my broken and redeemed story to encourage and draw others to Him. It seems crazy to me. I am just being me and sharing my authentically messy self but if my words could possibly help someone else, I will share. You too are worthy and you too are enough. Did you hear that? You are worthy and you are enough.

And also for the record...that letter, it never came.

Shawn's Day That Came

Growing up with six siblings wasn't always peaches and cream.

 

I can distinctly remember sobbing when I found out my mom was pregnant with my youngest sister. I was eight and I was very clear that "we already had enough kids in this family."

I always shared a bedroom, a bathroom, a birthday month, and my super hip clothes (denim overalls are not surprisingly making a comeback!). Although, being the eldest girl meant the hand-me-downs were from me and not to me! 

Contrary to what you might expect, it was never cool in middle school to be picked up in a conversion van and every time I had a friend over you could count on a sibling to two who insisted on being the center of attention. There were constant fights over the hot water, the front seat, the last of the milk, and the old school desktop computer so we could instant message with friends. 

I didn't appreciate what it meant to grow up in a big family as a child.

 But, the older we get, the closer my siblings and I have become. 

Sure we still bicker, and over share our unsolicited opinions, and poke fun a little too deep at times. But, we defend and protect. Celebrate and mourn. And we we share a fierce love and loyalty. 

So, when our eldest brother wed, #teameagle was in fully force to ensure their vision....the one where every detail was maliciously planned...was brought to fruition. There was pie baking, veggie chopping, flower snipping, and moss gluing. There was U-Haul driving, tent propping, ribbon tying, light stringing, and chandelier hanging. There was cake icing, centerpiece spritzing, card alphabetizing, and groom reassuring. 

But, that is when I am most proud to have so many siblings. 
We rally at the needs of another, I can attest as the repeated recipient.

And, that big brother of mine, he made certain that my beloved daughter was remembered on their day. She was the honorary flower girl.

 Their day was one of my most favorite family events to date. 
The ceremony, the speeches, the 'I won't be able to feel my feet the next day' nonstop dancing, and the celebration of their love. 

All because this day came for them.
 Welcome to the family.