One To Be Thankful For

I’ve been wanting to write something for a while now. It feels like it’s time for an update of some sort. I was heartbroken writing my last post and now I need to balance it out somehow. I started this blog when I left Mississippi as a way to keep my family updated on the goings-on in my life. Over the years it has become more of a journal and a way for me to process things. It seems so easy to write something raw and genuine when emotions are high and I need an outlet, but I’m not so sure how good the writing will be when things are decent and moving along nicely.

So, in the words of T Swift, this is me trying…

Up until my early thirties, I’d always viewed my life in terms of traumatic events. In the same way students measure their lives in semesters, I measured mine in terms of life-changing devastations. I’ve never wanted it to be that way, it’s just how it was. An uncontrollable narrative in my head derived from events that were completely out of my control, starting from the time I was a child.

My sister and I spent the first years of our lives watching our mother be abused by an angry alcoholic. When I was 7 and my sister was 4, my mom finally worked up the courage to leave him and never once looked back. But what we saw during those formative years stuck with us as we grew older and were difficult to overcome mentally, physically, and emotionally.

When I was 17 and my sister was 14, I was driving her to karate practice when we were hit head-on by a drunk driver going 70mph on a neighborhood street. I had to be cut out of the car by the jaws of life and spent 3 days in the hospital. My ankle was crushed in the collision and, though it was able to be put back together, I have suffered chronic pain as a direct result every day since. It’s an injury that will only deteriorate as time goes on.

When I was 30, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I opted for a double mastectomy and reconstruction that not only took two years to complete but also took with it my ability to ever breastfeed any future children. It also forever branded me as a cancer patient who needs regular check-ups with oncologists.

I know at this point in the blog that none of this is sounding very uplifting or positive, but bear with me. I promise I’m getting to the good part. 

I spent the entirety of my twenties dating and trying to figure out why I wasn’t meeting the person I was going to spend my life with. If I had had my way, I would’ve found my person so much sooner than at the ripe age of 33, which, according to my southern conservative family, was well past the “accepted age” to be married and starting a family. In fact, after we got engaged, one of my family members told me she thought I was “never gonna find a man.” 

But I did. I waited and I prayed and I cried to God so many nights to send my husband to me, and boy did He deliver!

I met him when I was 33. The man who basically taught me how to love and respect a man. The man who showed me what it’s like to be loved and adored. The man whose parents raised him in a way that complemented me and my needs perfectly. A man who has values and morals, is a hard worker, makes me feel safe and seen, and who I have no doubt will be the absolute best father and role model to our children that a girl could ask for. 

A year and a half into our relationship we knew we’d found “the one” and we got engaged. A year and a half after that we were married. And, my gosh, have we had some good times in between all of that. We’ve had some rough times as well – I don’t want to overlook those – but we’ve always gotten through those together and ended them with more love and understanding for each other. Every test we meet makes us stronger as a couple.

And look at us now. Look at me now. Finally starting to adjust and measure my life by the good times instead of the bad. 

Now, a year into our marriage, I have made it to the 6 month mark of this pregnancy. Our girl is getting stronger by the week. And after a chemical pregnancy and a miscarriage back-to-back, making it to this point feels like an astronomical achievement. Feeling her kicking and squirming around is an indescribable sensation I don’t think I’ll ever be able to explain or understand. Every day of this pregnancy I wake up even more amazed than I was the day before at the miracle of the human body – the miracle of a woman’s body! Getting to experience the privilege of growing another human being, walking around carrying a heartbeat entirely separate from my own is a feeling I’ll never get over. This is something I knew I wanted since the day I was diagnosed with cancer, and I am so thankful I’m finally getting to experience it.

I already know I’m going to miss being pregnant when she’s born, but I truly cannot wait to meet her. I can’t wait to see what she looks like and to see how her little personality develops. I can’t wait to get to know a whole new human and to teach her all the things my mama taught me and all the things I wish I’d known when I was young. I cant wait to see Matthew become a father and to watch him teach a whole new human how to exist in the world. To see what little lessons he instills in her – especially, but not limited to, how to play basketball. 

I am so excited for this new chapter coming up in our lives. I feel so thankful that everything I prayed for has finally arrived. It’s an amazing thing to see God working in your life after so many years of devastation and frustration. I am truly content and at peace for maybe the first time in my life. It feels so good. And it only took 37 years to get here.

But this contentment doesn’t come without awareness. I know friends who want to be but aren’t quite to this point in their lives yet. It hurts my heart to think about, and part of me feels guilty for celebrating this time in my life because I know that feeling. I spent years in the background watching seemingly everyone around me get all the things I wanted for myself. It was so isolating. But I also know that things do have a way of working out and that patience is always rewarded. Their time will come, and when it does, it’s important to remember the hard work it took to get there. Remaining grateful when things start falling into place and prayers are being answered is the most important aspect aside from actually receiving those gifts. It is why I wanted to write this blog post. 

I’m so thankful to be reaping the rewards I worked so hard for and – dare I say – feel like I deserve. I only hope and pray that it stays this way. At least for a little while. 

💕