Coinciding

Such a weird feeling; sitting in the bathroom with two positive pregnancy tests-- both telling me that I am carrying a little nugget in my belly. I found out I was about 6 weeks pregnant the same day I would have been 33 weeks pregnant with Micah. You see, I had a miscarriage towards the end of last year and I still tend to carry that pain with me-- often thinking how I would feel, how big my belly would have been; you know, all of the I wonder type scenarios.

But I can't help but feel a sense of joy and excitement and just a feeling of being super pumped that my body is ready and is carrying a baby! I held my breathe until my 10 week appointment, my first ultra sound. And what a beautiful moment that was. To see my nugget moving all sorts of ways and at one point it looked like that sweet baby was just staring right at me thru that screen. We got to see a healthy and beautifully growing baby on that screen. 

Before my ultrasound I had finally made a decision that week-- to not walk in fear during this pregnancy. This baby's life should be celebrated and embraced. Walking in fear robs me of the small milestones, of the joy that comes with carrying a life inside of you. I don't want to worry every time I go to the bathroom or every time I have an appointment. Believe me, its hard to not think of the worst case scenarios every time. It's a constant act of handing it over to God-- every single time. Fear will not take away my experience with pregnancy --- this miraculous and fascinating and wonderful experience. I thank God during my morning sickness, because I didn't get that chance last time. I thank God for the nausea, because I missed out. I embrace the fatigue and hunger because these are all signs that my body is changing and accommodating for this little precious nugget. What an opportunity! What a joy! My face is breaking out and my emotions are all over the place, but i'm pregnant. I'M PREGNANT. 

It's odd; having joy and grief coincide. But they do and they can. And that's totally okay.

xo

Not Stopping

I made this vision board in the beginning of 2018. On it, as you can see, I mentioned slowing down, finding a house, growing our middle school youth group, making a mark in society, reading more, encouraging intentionally and purposefully, growing as a step mother, becoming a mother of my own child, and more. 

A few days ago, I had a breakdown and cried and cried and cried and cried and cried some more. I couldn't figure out why. I started to think of all the ways I failed in 2018; as a mother, as a wife, as a teacher, as a friend. Moments that I replay in my head over and over again and criticize myself about; totaling my Honda civic that resulted in me being annoyingly skittish in the car; being insecure as a step mother; feeling inadequate as a wife; losing my baby at 9 weeks; leaving a job that I loved and felt safe in. Let me make it clear that no one has made we feel this way. If anything, people are encouraging and me telling me I'm brave and strong and courageous. Instead, I felt unsure, scared, and defeated. I made myself feel this way. 

The devil is cunning and seeks to destroy us. & God won't let that happen. I don't trust in my ability, because clearly I get in my own way and in my own head. But I have a hope. Even while broken and beaten, I have a hope and I cling to that. 

So I decided to think about what really happened in 2018; I had the opportunity to carry a child in my womb and feel the joy of becoming a mother-- telling my husband that he was going to father my child, telling our families about another child entering our worlds and the seeing the joy on all of their faces was worth it all; hearing that baby's strong heartbeat was worth it all. We had the opportunity of buying a house that is becoming a home-- a place we get to call our own. Our friends and family have come over into our table-less kitchen and have shared laughs with us and more memories are still waiting to be had here. I had the opportunity to switch positions (totally my choice) and have my very own classroom with the most lively 20 students that I get to learn from every day. I've had opportunities to travel, meet new people, spend sweet time with my step daughter, grow as a wife, and had such genuine and magnificent conversations with so many amazing people. 2018 may have been filled with moments that hurt me and tried to break me, but it was also full of moments that helped me grow, that stretched me, and helped me realize that I am stronger than I think. I have a beautiful life filled with beautiful people. 2018 was filled with lessons that have exposed me, but also helped me. Life is going to constantly throw curve balls, but that's life. Bring it. Because I have my God, my husband, my family, and friends and they stick close to me. 

Don't do life alone, friends. 

xo

What Coulda Been...

The second I found out I was pregnant I thought about what I would put on the baby registry. It was all so brand new and I had so much fun doing my wedding registry that I couldn't wait for my cute little hershey kiss of a baby to have all the beautiful things. I would eye Target's baby section HARD.

Now, when I walk by the Target's baby section, I look away. When I see a cute little baby bump I smile, but I hurt a little on the inside. When I see cute little chunka babies I coo in awe, but I'm wishing I knew what my chunka would have looked like. "What could have been..." 

I think people wonder if I'm mad at God or if I'm resentful or walking around crying. I'm not. But I'm hurt. I'm sad. I wonder about what he would have looked like and be like. What would we have looked like once he came. That's all I can do; wonder. I am going to be OK and I will move on in life. But that does not lessen the hurt or the fact that I would have been 12 weeks pregnant tomorrow had his beautiful heart not stopped. I want to feel every bit of this, because feeling hurt is what keeps me connected to this baby somehow; to my baby. I'm not walking around moping and sobbing; but my heart aches for a baby. A baby that had a due date of July 1st; a baby we anticipated; a baby we loved and longed for; a baby we treasured the second that 1st pregnancy test said PREGNANT. Even more when the 2nd test said pregnant. And even more when we heard his heart beat at just 6 weeks old. She even said, "That's a strong heartbeat!" Ugh, I loved him. I love him.

I don't blame God but a very small part of me blamed myself. The one place my baby boy was supposed to be safe and develop was in me and that didn't happen for some reason. All these scenarios played in my head. No one blamed me, but me. I do that to myself though. I am my harshest critic. I even critique how I grieve. I need to let me be. I appreciate everyone being so sweet and kind and patient as I figure out what to do next and how to just be. Please don't stay away because you are pregnant or have a little chunka. I want to see them-- but sometimes it is just a little difficult for me; but I still love them! It's something that I just have to deal with. Some days are better than others. That's just where I'm at right now and I need that to be OK.

So now, life continues. You cramp, you hurt, you cry, you grieve, and you live I guess. There are people that don't know that will ask, "When are you guys having one?!"-- ouch. And that's just what it is.  Life is crazy, unpredictable, and beautiful. How can something be all those things at once?  It just is. That's it. I need to stop overanalyzing and over complicating and just know that God is holding me close. Period.

This post is so scattered with so many different thoughts, but that's how I am lately. Scattered with all these different thoughts, feelings, emotions. I'm on the floor desperately trying to pick up different pieces of a shattered situation. But that's just it, I don't have to do that. Yet I find myself doing that all the time. I need to remember that God has got me; he always has and always will.

sigh...

Giving Thanks

I could not wait for the long weekend of Thanksgiving. I looked forward to time with my family, to sleeping in, to delicious food, to being reminiscent of all the great things I've had the opportunity to experience, and to just catch my breath for the first time in a while. Our lives have been so nonstop, so busy, and so go - go - go. Thursday came and I woke up WITHOUT an alarm. I was in all my glory. I also had a special announcement to make to my family. I was giddy and silly and all sorts of nervous and excited inside. The day was better than I imagined. I started the night by playing heads up with my family which is always a good time. We played and yelled and laughed so incredibly hard. The night ended with my husband's side of the family-- which consisted of a dance party in the kitchen at like 10 o'clock at night. We danced and smiled and had no intentions of letting the fun stop.

My special announcement to the fam was a hit. I wore this shirt and they all couldn't help but just love on Jamaal and I in celebration.

Dare I say the day was pretty perfect. 

On Friday, I woke up on cloud 9 from the day before. I was so happy to tell the family the good news. Finally, things seems to be coming together-- our lives are taking off and we're adulting hard and we're loving it. Again, I woke up with NO alarm. I couldn't believe it. No alarm makes me so happy. No one was awake. The house was peaceful. It was just me and my little kidney bean sized baby in the living room enjoying the quiet and hot cup of coffee. As the morning went on, I realized I really wasn't feeling well. I decided to call my doctor and they prompted me to go to the hospital. Long story short, my friends, 4 hours later, we get the absolutely horrifying news that our little baby no longer had a heart beat. No heart beat. That is what replayed in my head over and over and over again. 

I only knew about this baby of ours for 3 weeks. In those 3 weeks, my step daughter, husband, and I came up with names. I pictured our lives with him (we like to think it was going to be a baby boy). I imagined his room. I imagined his hair and eyes and chunky thighs. I envisioned our baby shower. I couldn't wait to tell my friends and to tell the public. I have friends that are pregnant and I can be pregnant with them! But no. Not this time. In a split second all that was gone. No heart beat. Now all I have are cramps and other symptoms that constantly remind me that my baby didn't make it. I don't know why, I don't know how. But he didn't. 

But I still thank God. I thank God for family and friends that are loving and supportive-- friends and family that have cried with me and just held me and are patient with me. I thank God for a step daughter that loves us and is sensitive enough to actually comfort me and share in the hurt with me. I thank God for a husband that is patient and comforting and strong and loving. I thank God for christmas music that has reminded me of His goodness above all else. I don't know why and I don't know how, but I know our days to have a baby will come. I'm still hurt and i'm still very much sad, but God is still good. 

I'm not sure why I found the need to write this. Maybe it is a release for me. Maybe it is for people to know that we go through things. Maybe it was to let others know that they are not alone. If you've experienced this then I'm sorry. It's such a weird type of grief or sadness because you haven't met this person yet, but you know that you know that you know that you love them already beyond measure. It's like this opportunity was just taken away. Like what? 2 seconds ago it was there and now it isn't? 

It's so hard. It's so sad. It's devastating. 

But we will keep believing for a healthy baby. We will keep giving thanks. We will keep going, because if we don't hold on to hope then what else is there to hold on to?

Balance

I'm really good at the art of doing. Like really good at it.

I enjoy getting things done and checking things off my check list. I love to: get the laundry done during the weekend,  make sure that my sink isn't filled of dishes before I go to bed; plan events for the youth at church; water and repot my plants; and many more crazy boring and mundane things but they bring me joy-- truly. I think it's more of the joy knowing that things are getting done and letting others relax and converse while I get things done. 

As much as I love to get things done, it robs me of a lot of stuff. It robs me of moments. Instead of sitting watching a movie with the fam to unwind, I'm desperately trying to get the laundry done by the end of Sunday so I don't have to do it during the crazy work week or I'm trying to get to the dishes we just used from dinner because I might just lose sleep at the thought of a full sink at night. 

But like anything in life...

balance. 

Balance drives me nuts. 

I use to imagine balance as a snarky lady with the perfected side eye look of disapproval. She would look at me disappointed, rolling her eyes hard when I would do things one way or another and not include her. When I did include her, I was nervous and thinking of all the things that needed to get done. I had a hard time enjoying balance's presence because I was busy having my to do list on my mind. I was awkward and anxious with racing thoughts. She would scoff and wouldn't even try to comfort me. 

But in reality it wasn't balance making me feel that way. It was me-- all me. My mind can get weird. I'm so incredibly hard on myself. I drive myself insane!

Balance is actually gentle. She is sweet and doesn't force anything on me. She invites me, but doesn't push. When I finally accept her invitation, she doesn't talk at me; instead, she listens while I talk and share and try to figure things out. For that, i'm grateful.

It's ok that I enjoy doing things, but I don't want it to take away from those precious moments in my life. Finding that balance of doing things and getting things done to slowing down and savoring moments with the ones I love. 

Balance is good. Balance is necessary. 

Slow down, Anais. 

Slow down every now and then, friend. 

xo

She

I walked in blindly, having no clue what my responsibilities were, what my role was, what my purpose was. I knew my heart, but I kept thinking,  “how can I make my intentions a reality?” All I knew is I loved this man and all that came with him-- his baggage, his messiness, his loveliness, and his beautiful kid. She was 3 years old when I met her. She was shy yet curious, concerned, yet interested.

As years passed, I found myself lost in what to do, how to do it, where to interject myself. Finally, we got married. We officially become a family of three. We became the Hazards. Something happened that day, something happened to me and something happened to her-- my now 9 year old - bold , curly haired step daughter. She became my baby girl and I her Ani. Not mom, not Anais, but her Ani. I love her, correct her, challenge her, push her, and adore her. And you know what? She does the same for me.

We’ve developed something special, something sweet, something different, something that is our very own. I may not have physically given birth to her, but she has helped birth the mother in me. I’ve found a courage deep within me, a grace that was unfounded, and a forgiveness that was lost. She’s helped shape me. She has no idea how much she has brought into my life; she’s brought chaos along with adventure and everything in between. I’ve found myself being stretched, pushed, and pulled in directions I didn’t even know existed.

I feel undeserving of this love, but yet it has been given to me. One of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard in this lifetime are, “I love you, Ani.” All else can be messed up in this world and everything can be turned upside down, but when I hear those words, I know all is well.

l-o-v-e

I have always craved love. I think we all do. 

As a kid, I watched people carefully; I listened carefully to the things they said and attentively watched as they interacted with each other. I never really reacted to much, but I soaked it all in. I would replay things I saw over and over in my head to try and make sense of it; if I couldn't make sense of it, I would make up a story that made sense to me and helped me put the pieces of the puzzle together. You know, like when you see two people walking and one has a scowl, while the other is walking in determination-- well, the story I'd make up to that is: one person tried to speak their mind, while the other totally disagreed and lashed out and was going to prove why they disagree by taking them to the very spot the incident happened to prove why they are wrong and to rub it in their face. Then maybe they'd make up and laugh it off and decided it was a stupid argument to begin with. You know, something like that. 

I've always been a people watcher. I'm observant and some times read too much into things. 

I'd watch as my family members spoke and treated each other and how they treated me. I'd watch as my parents did the best they could with what they knew and what they had. I craved to know people's stories and I craved to be loved and let others know about love-- even though I knew so little about it. I thought of love as a game. You needed a certain amount of something to be loved or deserve love. I'm not sure where this idea came from, because like I said, my parents did the best they could with what they knew and what they had. I know they loved me and love me. I thought love was on a deserve-only basis. You did this, you get love. You did a little more of this, and you might just get a little more love. I'm not sure if it was all I soaked in from my people watching ways or what, but I had this twisted way of thinking. As a result, I grew up thinking I wasn't sure I was deserving of much. I over compensated and over thought everything. I was determined to not let anyone think I wasn't deserving, so I did all things seemingly possible to deserve as much as possible-- not materialistically, but emotionally. I thought I just wanted some positive recognition, but I think the root of it all was that I just wanted some love. 

I started going to church with my family at 8 years old. That's the funny thing about church, it doesn't mean anything to one's self until WE have our OWN encounter with the Lord. It tok a long time for me to know the love of Christ; undeserving, unfailing, and fulfilling love. Then, God was gracious enough to bless me with a husband that loves me so beautifully. He loves me enough to call me out when needed, to remind me of who I am in Christ, and to love me in all my messiness. I've always been loved, I just didn't know it. 

& so are you. Walk in it and believe it. 

xo