Celebrate we will because life is short but sweet for certain.

This is a blog that I wrote three months ago and never published. It is the back story for the blog that precedes it. The heartbreak before the hope, if you will.

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"Are you pregnant yet?"

"So.....just one kid for you guys, eh?"

"It's time to start trying for a sibling for MacPherson, you're not getting any younger you know."

These words.

I've said them in varying degrees.

I hate that I've said them.

I cringe when I hear them being said to others.

And now, I break inside when they are said to me.

Four months ago, at roughly two months of pregnancy, I miscarried. My precious little baby, who I was already talking to and praying over, who I was already naming secretly in my mind, who I was already desiring more than life itself to hold in my arms, passed silently over the course of two days. It's a loss that I cannot describe. It's a loss that still washes over me at the most random times. I can be perfectly fine one moment, the next, a sobbing ball on the floor. I carried my brokenness around with me in silence until just recently. In my opening up, I have learned something. I am not alone. Not even close. Of my roughly ten friends that know of this, seven of them have miscarried as well. Those numbers, those babies, those brokenhearted women just like me walking around in their silent pain, dying a little inside every-time that someone brings up the questions above, it's heartbreaking. It's time to stop with the questions. It's time to just be gentle with each other.

And trust me, world, when and if God chooses to give me another shot, I will tell you that I am pregnant. There will be no need to ask me "has it worked yet?"

Lastly, this, which has brought me comfort on the tough days. Goodbyes are not forever, when the Lord is the author of your story:

John 14:1-3

14 “Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. ² In my Father's house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? ³ And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.

I'll see you there, Baby DeVore. Until my time comes, mommy loves you. 

And now...the hope.

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Today, four months later, I write with a new tone; with a new joy. 

I am 13 weeks pregnant. 

God has restored my story, almost immediately, with a sweet, tiny, healthy thus-far little baby.

I am due the first week of November. St Joe's North, begin epidural readying procedures now, please.

MacPherson is excited, though slightly confused. He walks around petting his stomach telling strangers that he has a baby inside of it. In his story, he is having a little girl named "Monster Truck."It is in fact a girl, we found out today, but this name will probably not make it far on the list.

I'm not at all sick, though sometimes I feel exhausted. I am already showing, but I'm proud of that. It's a sign that I have been given a second chance, so I'll wear this extra weight proudly. And this cake, this cake I will eat proudly too. And this box or two of macaroni. And....etc. 

I am thankful. 

I am hungry.

I'll see you soon, my little girl.

And thank you, Jesus.

Returning and restoring

This has been a trying month on my heart, my body, my mind, and even, sadly, on my faith. I needed a hug. I needed words of life. I needed my girls.

Timing. God has that down pat. 

One long weekend away in NYC, surrounded by fireplaces, quaint shops upstate, bubble baths, snow, and friends that are like family, and I am feeling nearly whole again. 

We flew into NYC super early on Friday morning, where our rental car was all ready for us. We drove straight into the city, stopping first in one of our old neighborhoods, Roosevelt Island, where this lovely friend, Lisa, was waiting for me.

After catching up quickly and grabbing a coffee at our local, burnt coffee chain, Scott and I drove over the bridge and landed in midtown. Once here, I had two goals: get me to my old students, and pull over to that falafel cart. 

I get what I want.

With my hot box of lamb in my lap and arms that were warm from hugging a slew of precious screaming children, we began our drive upstate to Rhinebeck for the wedding of my love, Mehren. I was so excited. Here, 10 girls that all have my heart would be. 

We stayed where the reception was held, at the Beekman Arms. It was nothing less than beautiful.

And the town? Heaven. So quaint and cozy. See:

After exploring the town, we met up with our old friends for a long dinner and lots of hugs. The next day was the wedding. It was stunning, and I definitely ugly-faced cried. 

And then, all of this.

In the morning, we said our goodbyes and drove back to the city for two days of rest, food, and quietness. We stayed at the Royalton which is near Bryant Park. I recommend it. A lot. 

Here are some city shots. I love NYC btw, I just hated the price tags attached while we were living there.

I used to do awesome things with my life......

And now, time to make dinner and hug my little boy, who accumulated a ton of new toys from all of his sucker grandparents while we were away. Spoiled. Speaking of spoiled, mom, my Starbucks card is low. You know what to do.

Christmas

Here's a photo bomb of all things Christmas, for all of the family out there.

First, we cuddled those that we love.

(Uncle Thad)

(Cousin Tova)

(Aunt Beth)

Then, we wrestled them.

Opened some presents.

Met a celebrity with our cousin, T.

Looked ridiculously cute.

Caught the zzzzzz's, however we could.

Made a human train tunnel with Grandpa and Aunt Beth.

Shot some guns.

 Swam, because it's hot as junk still down here.

 And mostly, we realized how weak David is.

I. Love. Christmas. And my family.