Ryan and I have been home for three weeks now. We’ve watched two snowfalls, and I’ve succumbed to two bouts of the stomach bug. I’ve been to the doctor (or ER) at least four times. And we still have what seems like hundreds of boxes stacked around the house. But despite sickness, the stress of unpacking, and a the occasional wave of uncertainty, Ryan and I feel so blessed to be home.
We are fortunate to be surrounded by those that have loved us for as long as we remember. By those who taught us the very meaning of the word love. Just as Ryan holds little Trent, we look forward to watching our parents and siblings hold our baby come this June (and did I mention that he or she is already the size of an avocado? and that I can feel him or her flutter in the early morning?).
Because Ryan and I didn’t know if we’d be able to get pregnant, and because we faced this uncertainty during a season of immense grief and loss, this baby feels like the greatest gift we could ever receive. Each ultrasound is magical, and I’m already counting down the days to when we bring him or her into our world. We have such good examples of love here. Each time my sister holds baby Ryan, I see the power that flows between a mother and a child. No matter what happens. No matter what obstacles they may face.
So as we wait, we celebrate all that is good and restored in our lives. Having my two sisters in the same room and us laughing over plates of spaghetti is as precious as any present we received this Christmas. Throwing up again and again, only to finally reach that moment when your body decides enough is enough and finally allows you to eat and drink makes those first bites and sips better than anything you’ve enjoyed the entire year. And watching my dad and niece decorate my birthday cake with such care erases all the birthdays we spent apart from each other. I am so very happy to be home.
I hope that you all had a beautiful holiday, and I look forward to sharing more good things in the weeks to come.