4.15.2015

why you don't have to be happy for me


Posting our babe announcement was almost bittersweet for me. And that may seem weird. But the thing is that not that long ago I had a really hard time with most baby news that filled my newsfeed.

We had to wait for this babe. Not nearly as long as many couples have to wait for a babe, and our waiting didn't involve extensive treatment or invasive surgery. But all the same, it was waiting, and we weren't sure how long the wait would last. There came a point in our waiting when I had no emotional energy left to be happy for others' happy baby news.

In the midst of our waiting, we suffered two early miscarriages, which demanded even more of my physical, mental, and emotional reservoirs. I had to come to terms with seeking medical advice, and that required more of my reserves. Pregnancy announcements would pop up, and I couldn't bring myself to click the "like" button. Instead I'd make the effort to hide the story from my feed completely.

I felt ashamed to admit that I did this, that I couldn't summon happiness for another. Because when you announce a babe-in-the-making, it's so wonderful to feel love and support from those around you. Happiness multiplies, and I usually love to be a part of that beautiful equation. But sometimes I had to excuse myself. It was too painful; I wasn't privy to the divine details of my family's own eternal plan and had to proceed every hour on trust in a loving Father. And that trust consumed me, for if it didn't, sorrow and fear would.

All of this to say, when I posted my happy news, I knew that someone out there would probably hurt. Someone might hide it from their feed or feel renewed waves of anger and grief. And that's okay. It really, really is.

If you are struggling with infertility--which could easily be much more difficult than my months of uncertainty were--and you wanted to hide my announcement from your feed, it's okay. If you are grieving for a babe or the promise of a babe and can't be happy about my happy news, I get it. I may not get what it is to struggle with long-term infertility, when your body quits working on you, when you have one shot at IVF and that's it. I don't get that. But I do get what it's like to ache for a babe and not know when you're going to have one of your own, and I do get that sometimes you don't have the emotions to spare for someone else.

My own experience with waiting and loss has infused me with an increased sensitivity to how I talk about pregnancy and babes, especially in public forums. I hope that as I document this pregnancy that I will be sensitive to those of you who may be wanting a babe of your own and have to wait. I carry a special and fervent prayer in my heart for you that you'll feel peace in your waiting and comfort in your grief.

I want to state again that my experience is in no way comparable to those who struggle with long-term infertility, who pay thousands of dollars out of pocket for treatment, who wait for years and years and often suffer silently. That was not my experience, and I'm not pretending that it was. But though I can't fully empathize with that specific experience, I do know what it's like to want a babe and not know when that babe will come. And that is so, so hard.

4.13.2015

when three becomes four

Our little family is growing from three members to four. I hardly know how to write this sweet announcement, because coming to this point has been emotional, humbling, and, at many times, uncertain. We're so happy to welcome another babe to our little family.


Babe Number Two is expected to arrive this fall, in late October. My heart--while wildly hormonal--is so full.

4.10.2015

Oregon spring

Tree branches droop with blossoms, and then one day you wake up and the trees turned green overnight. You're never quite sure how the weather will turn throughout the day, but you brave the park in the hopes that you can enjoy some sun before the clouds roll in at sundown. 


At night the rain falls softly, freshening the air and rustling the newly budded trees. You open the window to listen and smell and breathe. 

2.25.2015

an acts-of-service birthday celebration

Josh's birthday is this week, and I have a confession: I've struggled in the past with how to throw him an adequate birthday week celebration. I've had birthday gestures that have flopped simply because I think about what I would like instead of what my husband would like. So this year I turned to his love language: acts of service.

{Mr. Wilson and I on our Valentine date this year in downtown Portland.}

Instead of writing him love notes (which would make this words-of-affirmation girl swoon), I'm making his favorite meals this week. I tell him to go ahead and play one more computer game with his friends. I rub his back and make banana chocolate chips bars at 10:00 at night because I know he really loves them.

I research the perfect cobbler recipe instead of trying to fool myself into thinking he'll like cake better (because he doesn't). And I find an ice cream recipe that will go perfect with cobbler. 

When he tells me that he wants to have a LAN party with his friends, I say, OK! Let's buy you darlings nerds a bunch of pizza! Because here's the thing: this week is about Josh, and yeah, we're different. And I'm so grateful for that. When he turns 30 on Friday I want him to feel loved and appreciated. Maybe this year I'll do his birthday right, the way he likes it. And I like it best that way.

2.24.2015

said around here

Now that Asher is a full-blown conversationalist, I spend most of his waking hours talking with him. It's pretty much a never-ending conversation about planes, helicopters, and the little carts at Trader Joe's. Some days I kiss him goodnight and am so mentally exhausted by so much socializing that the thought of conversing with another person makes me want to hide. Most of the time his little words and sentences make me smile, even though we usually talk about all the same things every day. 


In case you were wondering what it feels like to be in the Wilson home for any amount of time, here are some conversation snippets for your enjoyment: 

:: "Yisten, Mommy! Yisten!" Listen. He says this when I'm telling him something he doesn't want to hear. He thinks that if I listen I will agree. Sometimes I do, but sometimes I don't.

:: "Um, me fine." Usually said in conjunction with "yisten, mommy."


:: "Waysing when Daddy g'home from wok!" Racing when Daddy gets home from work, referring to our now nightly Mario Kart races. Asher holds a non-functioning remote while Josh and I compete. Josh almost always wins, and we always congratulate Asher on his triumphs.

:: "Push yeettle cars a Tra-er Joe's!" Pushing the little carts at Trader Joe's is, so far, a lifetime highlight.

:: "Car pomming!" Car coming, said in mild panic anytime he has to think about walking through a parking lot. So instead of holding his hand, we usually end up carrying him.


:: "Mommy go kishen!" Mommy go to the kitchen. This one typically comes out when Josh gets home from work and Asher is hankering for some guy time. He sounds misogynistic, but he's really not. Promise.

:: "Watch Ar-hur?" Our morning routine consists of breakfast, watching Josh drive away, and then settling down for an episode of Arthur. Asher knows all the characters.


:: "Ash-uh Wiw-son." His name. I love it.  

:: "Me sil-yee!" Me silly. Yes, little boy, yes you are.

:: "A, B, C, F, G, K, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, and Z now-know-ABCs-ness-time-seen-wi ME!!" The modified alphabet.

Asher makes me laugh on a regular basis, and even when I'm exasperated it's hard not to giggle sometimes. I will leave you with one of my favorite Asher-isms: "Seeya!"

2.02.2015

hello, Monday

:: Hello, Monday.
:: Hello, neglected blog. Hello, hello, hello.
:: Hello to February and clean slates.
:: In the same breath, goodbye to January. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.


:: Hello to grocery lists and checked-off boxes.
:: Hello to both skillet cookies and kickboxing.


:: Hello to a solo weekend trip to Utah.
:: Hello to flying on a plane with a bag full of books and without a lap full of toddler.
:: Hello to running away to my sister, at least for the weekend.


:: Hello to sanity t-shirts and nap-time sewing.
:: Hello to hoping and healing and maybe even a little bit more writing.

What are you saying hello to this week?

Joining in with Lisa Leonard in her Hello, Monday post today. 

12.31.2014

making peace

I've had a publicly difficult relationship with the month or so following Christmas. Growing up December 26 was the Worst of All the Days, because that meant that all the anticipation and advent and merriment were over. And I was rarely fooled by New Year's. New Year's Eve and Day just aren't as fun, and if you pretend otherwise, you're lying.


The past couple of years, though, I've finally started to make some peace with the last week in December. I can't definitively say the same for January, but if I can move past my childhood dread of the end of December, then maybe someday I can make good with January too.

Adulthood has introduced me to the frantic aspects of December. While I did make a point to step back throughout the month and simply enjoy the season, I admit to liking this liminal period before reality hits hard next week. We've had an easy dose of routine mixed with a healthy amount of vacation mode. My to-do lists have dwindled, replaced by brainstorming and daydreaming about what 2015 will bring.


I started reading the Outlander series, which I've seen pop up on some of my favorite blogs over the past year. It's adventurous and intriguing, with a dose of smut thrown in for good measure. It's delightful vacation reading, and now that I'm fully immersed in the 18-century Scottish Highland, I keep calling Asher "my wee bairn." So. (Knowing that I have seven more books after this first one makes me feel giddy. Is this what it feels like to read Harry Potter straight through for the first time?)

My in-laws gifted me an online script lettering class for Christmas, and now I'm itching to get my hands on some good graphite pencils so I can start practicing. I went to Michael's today to pick up some basic supplies and was so underwhelmed by the brand selection and appalled at the prices, that I'm just going to order them on Amazon instead.


I like having this week after Christmas to slow down and dawdle out the rest of the year. Giving my mind and heart a rest has been oh so good for me. How do you feel about the end of the year? Have your attitudes about it changed as you've gotten older?

Happy New Year!

12.18.2014

cracking the case

I think I've put my finger on why my posting has dwindled so dramatically this year. It's not like I feel that I owe anyone an explanation about my posting (or lack thereof): I honestly wanted to know why my brain has rewired itself to the point where I can hardly think of things to write about. And recently I figured it out.

First I actually have many things I can write about. Writing is how I process emotions and events and thoughts, and I need it. But these past several months I've felt this pull to be more private with my thoughts and my family. I can't exactly explain why I feel this pull, and I don't plan on making this blog private; but that shift in my mentality has obviously affected what I write about and when I write about it.

Lately my mind has been full of dreams and prayers. I've been focusing more on what I want for me and my family and less on what others may expect from me. I've felt the gravity of my role as a mother and the importance of my role as a woman and a friend. I've been refining my relationship with God and figuring out who and what He wants me to be. So it's been a full year, even if I haven't shared as much of it with you as I have in years past.

Life is so good, and I'm so happy to be living it (though I may not post much about it right now). Thanks for sticking with me, even when I withdraw. For now, I'd expect posting to be about the same as it has been: minimal. And I'm realizing that minimal is okay right now. Life comprises a million and one seasons, and right now I'm in a season that calls for less blogging and more present living. You understand. I'm positive a long and prosperous writing season is in my future.

So merry Christmas, and I hope your holiday is as lovely as I expect mine to be! Christmas with a lively toddler is bound to be both magical and exhausting. I'm off to live it!

11.20.2014

these days



These days I've been

:: listening to the Serial podcast like every other 20- and 30-something Millennial in the country
:: making Christmas lists, but not yet checking them twice
:: fawning over pictures of my fresh-from-heaven niece
:: managing our road-trip preparations through All the Lists
:: continuing to power through the now-streamable Gilmore Girls
:: starting a new Christmas-themed cross-stitch sampler
:: loafing around in faux-fur-lined, sequin slippers
:: paying a doctor copay to be told that our resident toddler "just has a virus"
:: sneaking Trader Joe's dark PB cups from my baking cupboard
:: stocking up on all the snacks from Trader Joe's all in the name of our upcoming Oregon - Utah road trip
:: smearing Nutella on all the toast
:: calling Josh when Asher gets dressed and says, "Me look good!"
:: scheming to get a babysitter so I can go see Mockingjay
:: enjoying making our way through Doctor Who ("About time," says all our Doctor Who - fan friends)
:: jamming to the Pentatonix Christmas albums
:: drinking all the cocoa

It's been a lovely November, really. I can hardly believe Thanksgiving is a week away. We're headed to Utah so that our family can all be together with Emily and her new baby. We're road-tripping there, which means 13 hours in the car with a toddler. We're also driving down with Josh's parents, so I'm crossing my fingers that four adults will be sufficient to manage one toddler on such a long trip.

I have all the laundry and all the cleaning to do before tomorrow night, not to mention all the packing. So, I'll sign off. I hope your Thanksgiving is so lovely and that you're surrounded by family and wassail and rolls. All the rolls.

10.31.2014

final thoughts

And here we are, the end of October with far fewer than 31 posts about contented living. This topic certainly has more facets to explore, but today I'll leave you with a thought that's been settling in me all month.


One of my friends commented on a post earlier in this series joking about how maybe I could divulge the key to contented living. The thing is that everyone's contented life will look different. What makes me content is different from what makes you content. And that's okay. The key, though, is simple. The secret is one that we all must discover on our own before true contented living is possible.

{If we are to live a contented life, we must listen to God to know when to move and when to rest.}

A contented life is one inextricably tied up with trust in the Savior. A contented life is defined by our relationship with our Heavenly Father, because the more we come to know Him and how He speaks to us, the better we can discern when to move and when to rest.

Contented living is as much about growth and evolution and change as it is about acceptance and peace and stillness. The key is knowing how to balance it, and the key to balance is Jesus Christ. I know that not all my readers believe what I do, and I hope I'm not alienating anyone by being so forthright. The truth is that everything meaningful and good in my life--contented or otherwise--exists because the Savior, and I can't pretend otherwise. The way I live my life is inexorably connected to my relationship with God, and I'm not going to hide that from you. 

I hope that as you go through your days that you can find manifestations of Heavenly Father's love for you, because it is real and unending and powerful (even if you're not sure He exists at all). I hope that you can find contentment within that love, that you can find peace and purpose, direction and motivation. A contented life is one wherein we relinquish control in favor of faith in One who knows us and loves us. Contentment is knowing and embracing that we are small yet important, weak yet bursting with powerful potential.

Thank you for following along this somewhat inconsistent series. I'll be back sometime in November with a good list post for you!

This post is part of a 31-day series on contented living. You can find the other posts here.
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