Is it really 2015?  I can barely believe it.

Christmas was difficult because there should have been a little girl in our arms, likely peeling back wrapping paper for the first time in her life.  I am sure that her big brother, who loves gifts and packages, would have gladly helped her open all of her gifts.  I was sad that as we hung the decorations, there was no stocking for Lucy.  I was sad that on Christmas morning her bedroom was empty, and there was no little girl to wake up and bring down to the Christmas tree.  I was really sad but it didn’t linger in the deep, harsh way that I expected it to.  I am learning, little by little, to address my pain but to also be sure to be present and invested in the moments that I have with Oliver.

I do not want to look back on my life and find that I was often stuck in what should have been instead of what is. 

I have lost one child and a lifetime of memories with her, and it would be so sad to miss the memories I have with Oliver because I am mentally somewhere else.  I was so happy to see Oliver’s joy on Christmas morning.  I felt so grateful to be soaking up our fourth Christmas with him.  He is such a joy to us.  Lucy was deeply missed, but I felt okay.  To be honest, the fear of January looming ahead weighed heavier on me than getting through Christmas.

In the past year, we experienced a lot of changes; some that we welcomed gladly and others that we struggled through and wished could be any other way.  It was hands down the most pivotal year of my life thus far, and not because I turned 30.  I have definitely experienced big life changes before- moving out of my parents house, getting two college degrees, moving across the country, getting engaged and married, being the wife of a touring musician, starting a career, buying a home, having our first kiddo.  A lot happened to me in my 20’s, but nothing that has changed me from the inside out like losing Lucy.  I literally don’t feel like the same person anymore.  Sure, I still like coffee, good food, fashion, and honest conversations with people I love.  I still wake up, look in the mirror and see the same brown eyes looking back at me as they have for so many years; but I am just….different.

A layer of me was stripped away in 2014.  A layer filled with pride, a lifestyle that was too fast-paced, control issues, misplaced identity, as my pastor would say disordered affections, and other equally distasteful things.  This protective layer that felt like strength was really a layer hindering me from finding the more rooted strength that grows through allowing myself to be weak, and learning to better lean on my Savior.  I was forced to stop.  I have chosen to examine myself, to make changes, and to accept my emotions and my limitations.  What’s left of me is still human and flawed but what’s left of me is more vulnerable, which I believe makes me more moldable and stronger in new ways.  It hurts when the layers are peeled back, but I am finding the beauty underneath.  I see and feel things differently now.  The changes in me are internal and they will last for a lifetime.  These changes shape the way I see things, the way I trust, the way I love, the way I feel, and the way I view God, life, others and myself.  I hope that these changes will be reflected outwardly in the way I live my life in 2015 and in every year to come.

To be honest, I left 2014 feeling exhausted, scared, hopeful, grateful, weaker and yet stronger.  I felt emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted from processing pain and grief, being a mom, working, and continuing to make my way through another pregnancy.  There was a lot to juggle and adjust to both internally and externally throughout this past year.

I felt and still feel downright scared; scared for labor and the birth of Ezra, even though he will be my third.  I am scared to be in this month of January, to have to live through a month filled with so many hard memories from last year.  This is the month when everything changed; the month that holds the day marking what would have been Lucy’s first birthday.  I am scared that I won’t be able to bear it.  I literally feel like I want to run away on January 27th in an effort to somehow find a way to escape January 28th all together.  It feels like being a child again, but I am surprisingly okay with that; I won’t pretend to have mastered dealing with grief, pain and loss.

I feel even more sensitive this month than I normally do.  I am quicker to cry and to get lost in fearful thoughts. Just the other day I opened a photo of Lucy that I have seen a million times, and though I was in a seemingly good mood I burst into tears.  My own response shocked me because I didn’t even realize I would respond like that in that moment.  This is a small, raw, real example of what it feels like for me right now.  I can’t even be prepared to know how to deal with myself.  (Just think about how my husband must feel. : )

Although I have my fears with this pregnancy, I do also feel hopeful.  I feel hopeful to meet this sweet little boy growing within me.  Ezra is a much longed-for gift from God.  I feel hopeful to be a mom raising two boys in our home.  I feel grateful for Shaun and Oliver and for the fact that I get to spend each day with them.  I feel grateful for the outpouring of love and support that we received and felt in 2014 from family, friends, and strangers.  I feel grateful for Lucy and for all that I have learned through her story and mine.  I feel grateful to have held her and hopeful for the day I’ll hold her again and see her sweet smile.

All in all I feel like a bit of a mess; like a major work in progress.  I feel like I should be walking around with caution tape securely fastened around me, but I am okay with that too.  I know that it is okay to be me, right where I am today.  I desire to strive for growth in 2015, but not to make it about what I can do but what Christ is doing in me.  He is the strength in my weakness.  He is carefully mending me by putting the pieces of my weary heart back together after a shattering heartbreak.  As I walk into what feels like a dark month, may I strive to see the light and not let each little blessing go unnoticed.  January, you will not defeat me.

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:7