Tag Archives: parenthood

What Love Looks Like

On this day six years ago, on the bank of a lush green peninsula with the Tennessee River weaving its way around us, my (now) husband nervously dropped to one knee and asked me to marry him. My heart raced. Excited as I was about the expectation of this day, I was stunned in this moment of surprise. With tears in my eyes, I wholeheartedly exclaimed, “Yes!” and he somehow managed to slip the ring on my shaking hand. Our lips curled into smiles as we kissed and settled into the strange sense of relief and anticipation that this great decision brings.

IMG_0632.JPG

In the span of time between then and now, our lives have shifted so much. We’ve made three moves and had two babies together. We’ve switched jobs and quit jobs and attempted to create jobs. We’ve lived apart and together. We’ve traveled, we’ve learned, we’ve grown. As our minds and our bodies and our routines have been forced to adapt to our ever-changing circumstances, so, too, has our love. The love I said yes to six years ago looks a whole lot different than the love we live out today.

Sometimes love looks like chasing down dreams. Mine. His. Both of ours. Sometimes love looks like putting my dreams on hold to allow him to pursue his. Sometimes it looks like rejoicing in gratitude when he selflessly does the same.

Sometimes love looks like sharing adventures. Traveling the world, climbing glaciers, flying over fields and valleys. And realizing, no matter where we go, he and I are still our same selves; which is both beautiful and daunting.

Sometimes love looks like settling. For a place we don’t want to be. For a house we don’t love. For jobs we don’t enjoy. For a person who doesn’t always meet all of our expectations.

Sometimes love looks like surprise. Surprise at how we can know each other so well and still uncover new gems. Surprise at how our hearts can soften when it would be so much easier to let them grow hard. Surprise at the depth of our commitment to better our selves and our relationship.

Sometimes love looks like acceptance. Acceptance that his emotions and reactions and outlooks are going to be different from my own. Acceptance that we’re not always our best selves, but at least we keep trying.

Sometimes love looks like weathering loss together. Holding each other through the heavy burden of grief. Holding space for the hurts that cannot be expressed. Holding grace when those hurts seem to flow through us and out onto each other from the gaping wounds that have yet to heal.

Sometimes love looks like the strange combination of hope and fear that big life events bring. Babies and birthdays and moves and job opportunities. Love looks like supporting each other through the joys and trials of these transitions.

Sometimes love looks like doing dishes or doing laundry or mowing the lawn or paying the bills. And choosing not to stew in the resentment that passes through our household when the scales of the chores seem unevenly tipped.

Sometimes love looks like staying home. Or going to work. Dividing and conquering the responsibilities that never end. Even if it feels more like dividing than conquering.

Sometimes love looks like the faces of these children we’ve created together. Little faces that are a beautiful blend of both of our bodies and spirits. Faces that both delight and and exhaust us.

Sometimes love looks like putting the kids to bed early so we can have a little extra time for just the two of us. And sometimes love looks like a shared sigh, a glance, a brief embrace, when, despite our best efforts the kids just won’t sleep. And this is the best we’re going to get today.

Sometimes looks like talking about our deepest thoughts and dreams. But sometimes love looks like simply sitting together in silence.

Sometimes love looks like the soft touch of gentle hands. His hands on my back as I labor to bring our children into the world. My hands stretched across his chest in the dark of the night as we savor this silent time together.

This love that has changed shape over time is not always what I expected, not always what I signed up for six years ago. And yet, it’s so much more. I didn’t quite know what I was saying yes to this day back then. I still don’t know what I’m saying yes to in this future together. But I’m so glad that I said yes, that I continue to say yes, to our ever-evolving love.

IMG_0665.JPG

Advertisements

In Defense of Weeds

I have a confession. I secretly love weeds. This is a statement that, as a newly minted gardener, I’ll probably be regretting in a few weeks. But for now, I welcome the wild weedy flora scattered about. Since, historically, my thumb has not proven to be green, I love the tiny buds and blooms that crop up on their own in unexpected, even unwelcome, places, providing a natural delight.

While many others spray and pluck and dig in an attempt to keep their lawn a uniform green, the specks of white clovers and yellow dandelions and and purple violets that sparkle in a sea of green are so much more beautiful, in my eyes. When my husband went to mow the grass at our new house recently, he discovered a weedy patch of daisies trying to push their way through the fresh spring soil. We couldn’t bear to mow them down, annihilating their innocent yet stubborn presence. So now they stand taller than our youngest child; an exotic island in our yard that waves like sirens in the wind, beckoning us to stop and enjoy their wild beauty.

And maybe that’s what I love most about this rogue vegetation – a weed’s stubborn resistance to adhere to the rules and regulations of where and how it should grow. Weeds grow wild and free and in defiance of all expectations, which seems shockingly similar to how my children grow. If allowed to grow naturally, resisting the urge to pluck them and prune them in an attempt at perfection, you might just get to experience the beauty blossoming within. Sometimes they’re prickly, sometimes they seem to completely overtake whatever you’re trying to accomplish, but if you take a step back there’s a simple, natural grace that emerges through their reluctance to be tamed.

So give me the daisies with their delicate breezy sway. Give me the dandelions with their irresistible downy heads and magical soaring seeds. Give me the violets with their colorful flair. Give me the honeysuckle with its sweet perfume and delicious nectar. Give me the reckless and wild weeds that add their own beauty and flavor to the garden of life.

Proud Momma

Modern day motherhood feels rife with judgements and expectations. Every person I meet or book I read seems to have an opinion on every aspect of how children should be raised. With all this noise from society, its easy to fall into a pit of self-doubt around my own mothering. The internal and external judgements of how to do it right can leave me feeling like I’m always doing it wrong. So pervasive is this attitude, that it seems radical, over-confident, or even off-putting to profess pride in my own parenting choices.

And yet, I’m proud of the momma I am.

I’m proud that I celebrate the miracle of my children’s lives and hold them with delight.

I’m proud of the overwhelming strength of my body that grew these babies, nurturing the tiny bodies within, then overcame my own limits to bring them into this world.

I’m proud of the beautiful nursing relationship I built with each child, endlessly holding them to my chest, day and night, as my arms grew weary and my eyelids grew heavy.

I’m proud of sharing sleep with my babies and the exhausting, amazing bond that it’s brought to our lives.

I’m proud of trusting my gut instincts, and my own children, above all else when my heart screams no to the “shoulds” of society.

I’m proud every time I’ve answered my children’s cries, listened to their needs, and embraced them with love.

I’m proud of giving them the freedom to grow into their own selves rather than forcing my own expectations.

I’m proud of sitting down to share meals with my kids. Of laughing together with oatmeal-smeared faces, ignoring the piled dishes and messy floors.

I’m proud that I stop to play with my little ones. That I take time to build blocks and read books and paint pictures.

I’m proud when I slow down to meet their meaningful pace rather than hurrying them to keep up with mine.

I’m proud when I respond to their most trying times with a soft heart and positive spirit.

I’m proud that when I fail and yell, I can embrace my kids, and myself, with grace and say, “I’m sorry. I love you. Let’s try better next time.”

I’m proud that I show my children my whole heart – what makes it smile and what breaks it wide open.

I’m proud of loving my children – deeply and abundantly and imperfectly – but ultimately with everything I am.

These points of pride are things that are not always easy; they do not always come naturally to me; they do not always feel right in the short term. Each choice comes with a trade off, something else at which I feel I’m failing. And in the moment, I do not always make the “right” choice, the choice that makes me proud. But perfection is not the point. Showing up and trying, day in and day out, is enough to be proud of.

So for today, I choose to take a step back and be proud of the mother I am. I choose to celebrate the small successes that stream through the scattered failures. These are the things I choose to hold onto and remember about motherhood. These are the meaningful moments that make me a momma.

I’m proud of the momma I am, and prouder still of the momma I’m becoming as I learn more and grow wiser with each passing day.

Moving On

“It’s like we were holding onto a different phase of life,” my husband mused as he hauled yet another box of our old relics off to Goodwill.

“That’s because we were in a different phase of life when we moved into this house,” I responded wistfully.

IMG_2002

A few weeks ago, we found out we would have to move out of our current home. Since then, our life has been a whirlwind of decisions and house hunting and sorting through stuff, scattered with sickness and birthday parties and visitors. Its as if we’ve pressed fast forward on the already breakneck speed of our life as we attempt to prepare and pack for a move that’s less than two weeks away. So moments of reflection about where we’ve come from, where we are now, and where we’re going are limited to pockets of conversation that crop up between the daily tasks.

The thought of moving has been met with a mix of excitement and hope alongside fear and uncertainty. We are always up for an adventure, even if it is just five miles down the road. A new (to us) house is a fresh start and a blank slate, a novel place where we can dream and build memories and cultivate life together. Then there’s the fear and overwhelm of figuring out how to get everything packed and moved when our kids already seem to consume all of our time and energy. And there’s the uncertainty of whether we will like our new neighborhood as much as our current one, how everyone will adjust to things being a bit different, the small but sure step outside of our comfort zone.

Suffice to say, moving and saying goodbye to this old house is certainly bittersweet. Although we always knew our current abode was just a temporary home, and though the house is not exactly what we want, it’s still a place that has seen us through some major life transitions. We have transformed from somewhat carefree young adults to tried and true parents in our time here. We brought home a baby, and then another, and have watched them and ourselves grow and change so much in the space between. We’ve welcomed life and we’ve mourned loss within these walls. We’ve built a family, we’ve struggled with stagnation, we’ve felt beaten down by circumstances and lifted up by daily joys in this place.

We’ve witnessed exploratory crawling and first tentative steps on these floors. We’ve heard these walls echo with first laughs and first words and heartfelt conversations. We’ve filled this backyard with endless evenings of running and chasing and laughing until we collapse on the grass, watching the clouds and planes drift overhead. We’ve watched our daughters’ faces light up with the morning sun that shines through our kitchen window as they laugh and play together. We’ve wondered in awe how we’ve come this far in only a few short years of living here.

We will be moving out of this house different people than we moved in. We’ve been a bit more shaken by life, both the good and the bad parts, than when we first stepped over this threshold. We’ll carefully pack up our necessities and memories, tossing out what no longer serves us and cherishing what we have instead. And we will carry with us just a few momentos from those earlier days of our previous selves as we boldly stride into this next phase of life.

It’s time to move out and move on.

Let Them Go Outside

As modern day parents, it’s easy to get wrapped up in the hustle and bustle of it all. It’s easy to find ourselves stuck inside all day, frantically trying to check off endless tasks on our to-do list while our little ones simultaneously undo our progress. There are days I find myself quickly shuffling from one activity to the next and come to realize that the only outside time my kids have experienced is the mad dash from the car to the door.

But when I make the simple but purposeful choice to let us enjoy the outdoors, it is a literal breath of fresh air that feels both rejuvenating and revolutionary. I need it. They need it. From tiny infants to busy teenagers, the call of the wild beckons, inviting their presence and igniting their growth. We don’t need a bevy of toys cluttering our house to let our children learn and play and develop, we simply need the natural wonders that lie just beyond our doorway. So open the door, and let them go outside.

Let them lie on the ground. Let the grass be their blanket and the clouds be their entertainment.

Let them crawl with the feel of the earth supporting their small but mighty strength.

Let them toddle over uneven natural terrain.

Let them run through fields and race through forests.

Let their toes feel the tickle of grass and the squish of mud.

Let them jump off logs and jump in puddles.

Let them climb up trees and climb down creek-beds.

Let them get dirty. Let them come running back to you stained and smiling.

Let them feel the change of the weather. Let their skin tingle with the warm embrace of sunshine, the sweet kiss of a raindrop, and the thrilling chill of a thousand snowflakes.

Let them listen to the beautiful background noise of songbirds chirping, wind rustling through leaves, water trickling in the distance.

Let them find stillness and stimulation, wisdom and wonder.

Let them inhale fresh air and exhale adult expectations.

Let them know their own strength and find their own confidence. Let them dare and let them dream.

Let them discover. Let them learn. Let them explore.

Let them be free. Let them be wild. Let them be alive.

A Love Letter to My Friends

Dear Amazing Friends,

I can barely begin to describe the beauty that you bring to my world. When life is busy and the road is winding, each of you provides a beacon of hope and joy. You are the sparks of light along the way that make the journey infinitely more enjoyable. Whether it’s laughter or listening, advice or accolades, you bring exactly what I need when I need it most. You fill my soul and make my heart happy. You inspire laughter and soothe tears. Quite simply, you make life so much more delightful.

And what an incredible life it is getting to live it with each of you. You’ve known me through it all. You’ve been with me through high school homework stresses, college relationships, job struggles, early adulthood adventures, walking down the aisle, and raising babies. You’ve seen me at my best without responding with jealousy, and you’ve loved me at my worst without bringing judgement. You’ve held my hand on important occasions; you’ve held my heart throughout.

I’m really not quite sure what I’ve done to be lucky enough to have you all in my life. As life has gotten ever more complex with marriage and moves and children, I know there have been so many times that I’ve dropped the ball on being the type of friend I want to be, the type of friend you deserve. For that I’m sorry.

I’m sorry that it takes me two days to respond to a text, two weeks to return a phone call, and two months to reply to an email.

I’m sorry that I’m constantly tired and distracted when we do finally get the chance to chat.

I’m sorry that my brain these days is frenzied and forgetful and I’ve neglected to send birthday cards or inquire about important life events.

I’m sorry that I’ve missed bonfires and bachelorette parties and weddings because my babies needed me.

I’m sorry that I haven’t always shown up at the times or in the ways you needed me.

It is said that when juggling all the responsibilities of life, its not about never dropping the ball, it’s about learning which balls are glass and which are rubber; which ones will break and which will bounce. I hope, lovely friends, you can continue to bounce with me as I try to find my balance in this busy phase of life. I hope you know how much I value our friendship and would never want to break our bond. For still being there in spite of it all, for loving me anyway, I cannot thank you enough.

Thank you for making me laugh until it hurts and (ice) dance until we collapse in giggles.

Thank you for listening; for truly hearing what’s on my heart.

Thank you for asking the questions and saying the words I didn’t even realize I needed to hear.

Thank you for caring; for remembering the details of my life that even I sometimes forget.

Thank you for lifting me up; for making me feel valued, worthy, and adored.

Thank you for laughing at my corny jokes and off the wall comments.

Thank you for welcoming my babies to join brunches, bridal fittings, and weekends away.

Thank you for holding my little girls, making them laugh, and loving them with your whole hearts.

Thank you for accepting and embracing me for exactly who I am and where I am in life.

I love you dear ones…

Xo,

Court

When Love Is Not Enough

IMG_9493.jpg

The room is dark as I quietly creep in and gaze down at my older daughter’s sweet sleeping face, filled with the peace of a deep slumber. I kneel beside her little bed and touch her lips, pursed in a rare moment of silence, as they have been busy all day forming new words. I stroke her tiny ear, so unencumbered by the hearing aids that rest upon them during waking hours and fill my daughter’s head with all the incredible sounds of the world. My heart is heavy with the weight and depth of the love I feel for this amazing little being.

But sometimes it feels as if love is not enough.

I grew my firstborn inside of me with every ounce of love her small body could contain. My love flowed to her like blood and nourishment, pulsing with the beat of the potential that was her life to come. When she was born into this world, becoming the physical embodiment of that great love, she was pure perfection in every way, except one. On the second day of her life we discovered that she was born with inexplicable hearing loss.

In that moment, it felt like my love was not enough. My love was not enough to grant my child two perfectly working ears. My love was not enough to guarantee that she could effortlessly hear the music that makes our lives sing.

Through the miracle of science and the grace of great clinicians, we quickly got our baby girl fitted with hearing aids to help her fully experience the world around her. At just three months, her little ears blinked with the bionic beauty that let us know that the tweets of birds and rustle of leaves were being amplified and broadcast into her mind. By six months, she was working with the most incredible therapist who made sure she was striving for milestones. And strive she did. As our baby grew into a toddler, and now a little girl, she has amazed us with her ability to thrive in every metric. Her hearing loss, originally diagnosed as mild-to-moderate, faded into the background of our lives as we relished watching our girl grow and learn.

Until a week ago. I sat in the office of our audiologist following a routine screening. The room was loud, filled with the sounds of my own restless children who were hungry and tired and losing patience. I tried to listen as the audiologist explained the results of the test, stating kindly, “It looks like your daughter’s hearing is getting progressively worse. It’s slipping into the category of profound.” My eyes welled with tears and my ears rang as I caught phrases like, “cochlear implants” and “total deafness” and “we just don’t know.”

And in that moment, I was hit again with the realization that my love simply is not enough. It is not enough to ensure that she will one day be able to hear, with her own two ears, the voice of the person she falls in love with or the music that compels her to dance or the sound of her children’s laughter. My love is not enough to ensure that she hears my own voice, right now, whispering how much I love her. And my heart breaks for my girl.

I know I’m not alone. Mommas around the world hold their babies, young and grown, with heavy hearts filled with uncontainable love that spills out onto their children. I know I am a lucky one, for my daughter’s challenge has options and opportunities still; it doesn’t threaten her very existence. There are mommas who stroke their baby’s eyes, with no hope of them ever seeing the beauty of this world. There are mommas who caress delicate legs that will never know what it feels like to run through fields and forests. There are mommas who hold close tiny bodies, waiting to feel their child’s inevitable last exhale. Our stories and our struggles are unique, but we all carry with us the heavy burden that our love is not enough to protect our precious babes from their own fate.

But we go on loving anyway. Because that is the call and the contract of parenthood; to have our love live outside of ourselves. From the moment of conception, we’ve agreed to trust an imperfect world with our most perfect expressions of love – our children. This world will disappoint us, and this world will disappoint them, with the injustice of it all. They will face suffering of all shapes and sizes, and time and time again, our love will fail to save them.

Yet, our love is the only thing that can save them. Our love may not be able to provide health and healing, but it offers glimmers of hope and happiness through the hardships. Our love may not bring a solution to the problem, but it brings purpose to the journey. Our love shows our children that, though life may look or sound different than we had imagined, it is so full of treasures that make the trials worth it. Our love is the strength and the salvation that carries them through it all.

This will be the hardest thing we do as parents – to keep loving in spite of the fact that our love is not enough. This will be the holiest thing we do as parents – to keep loving, in fact, because our love is not enough.

So we face each day with broken hearts; hearts that break open to pour out our boundless love on to our babes. Raw and ragged, the wounds that ail our children seep into our souls, inspiring ever greater love. We carry with us the ache of knowing our love is not enough, and the grace of knowing our love is everything.

As for our daughter, she continues to amaze us every day with the breadth and compassion of her own love. She continues to face each day with wit and wonder. She awakens in the morning and excitedly grabs her “hearings” to ignite her mind with the melodies of life. And she listens, not taking for granted the sounds that others might miss. When she hears something in the distance, she ponders sweetly, “What does that sound look like?” I don’t know what her future holds, in terms of hearing loss or life in general, but I know that I will continue to love her with a wide open heart, and that will be enough.

IMG_9489.jpg

It Starts With Us

In the wake of the unsettling and all too common sexual abuse scandal of yet another famous figure, and the #metoo campaign that entailed, we’ve been forced to face the harsh reality that sexual abuse, lack of respect for others’ bodies, and ignorance of physical consent are rampant problems in our society. As the mother of two girls, this issue both frightens me and and gives me pause. I pause to think – how did we get here, and what can we do about it?

If you ask ten different people, you would likely receive ten different answers to these questions. There are many reasons, multiple hurtles, and, hopefully, a bevy of solutions. Where I am in life, though, I look at the issues through the lens of a parent. I look at what we are teaching our children and how seemingly innocent actions can inadvertently reinforce unwanted behaviors or ideals.

When it comes to parenting, and life, I’m learning that it’s the seemingly small choices that, over time, add up to life lessons. What we model for our children in our day to day decisions regarding respect for their bodies and others’, as well as the notion of physical and emotional consent, are the ideals they will carry with them when they face crucial situations in the future.

There are many ways to teach these lessons and empower our little ones by respecting their bodies and boundaries. I am no expert, and I by no means wish to claim that my way is the “right” way. I’m aware that, to some, my ideas might seem extreme, or a little too over the top. That’s fine. We are constantly refining what works for our family and our children, just as each parent has to do for their own.

Yet, I write this as a reminder to my children, as well as myself, that each day I will strive to respect their bodies and their right to consent, so that they can carry these notions forward in the future.

IMG_9475

Dear Fierce Daughters,

I grew your beautiful bodies in my own, and for that reason I want to both protect and empower you. As you will always be a part of me, I promise to treat your body and spirit with the same care and respect that I would want others to treat me. In doing so, I hope to teach you to do the same.

I will respect your preferences to be held and touched only by those you know and love. I will not pass you off to others when you look at me with quivering lips and tears in your eyes. I will hold you close and embrace your desire to be near your safe haven.

I will not shush you and tell you it’s ok, stop crying, be quiet, when in your world it so clearly is not ok. I will listen to you, between the words, to discern what your little body is telling you. I will comfort you the best way I know how, allowing you to trust your body and express your emotions.

I will give you space when you need it. When you push me away I will remain by your side, but I won’t force words or actions from you. I trust your tiny heart to know how to remedy a tough situation. I will lead and guide, but allow you the space to choose how to use your physical and verbal affections.

I will not force affection from you. I will not tell you to hug or kiss grandma or a friend or a stranger you’ve just met. Or even myself. Even when it breaks my heart that you won’t give me a goodnight kiss when I tuck you in at night. Even if all I want to do is squeeze you at the end of a long hard day. It’s your body and your choice. And it feels so much better to receive the affection you give willingly, filled with love and joy.

I will not tickle you until you laugh so hard you can’t breathe or mutter stop. I know tickling will make you laugh, that’s the point. But I also know that the laughter that comes from tickling can shadow your true feelings and ability to tell me no.  I will work harder and choose different ways to gain your giggles.

I will not stand idly by while others, unaware of our ways and just trying to have fun, tickle you. I will put myself in the awkward situation of having to tell a well-meaning friend or family member that we don’t do that. Hopefully this will help you avoid awkward and uncomfortable situations to come. Hopefully this will teach you how to use your own words to stand up for your own body, even and especially if it’s awkward.

I will try at all costs not to force your body into places or positions or clothing that you don’t want to go. When possible, I will respect your choices and your timing. When it’s not possible, due to safety or time or circumstances, I will strive to always handle your body with calm and your emotions with gentleness. I am listening, even when I can’t always accommodate.

Your voice still matters. Your choice always matters.

Love your fierce advocate,

Momma

I write these words to my daughters because, at this time, I only have girls. Yet, if I one day have sons, I believe it will be equally important, if not more so, to instill these same values in them. In order to change, our world needs girls and boys who know what it means for their bodies to be respected and to respect in return. We need young women and men who grasp consent because they’ve always been given a choice and a voice.

It starts young. It starts with us. It starts with the seemingly innocuous choices we make for our children everyday. So maybe, hopefully, it can end with us too.

Poppa, The Great

IMG_5728

This guy. In the past 15 months, this guy has surpassed any and all of my wildest dreams and expectations of the father he would be to our daughter. And I am a gal of high expectations.

Though I knew in my heart that my husband would be a great dad, in my mind I worried how he would take to this life-changing little person who burst into our world. He’s a guy who shied away from holding our nieces and nephews as babies because he’s “not a baby person.” He’s a guy who laid out every real or imagined constraint that a baby would place on our lives. He’s a guy who, when I told him I was pregnant, responded with a nervous and questioning “congrats?”.

But he’s also a guy who has the incredible patience and compassion and persistence that it takes to care for a new life.

From the moment our daughter was born, he was there. He was there for her and he was there for me. In the trenches, all of us together, a family. He never hesitated to endlessly bounce our fussy newborn on an exercise ball. Never groaned about taking our sleepless babe at 5:00 am even when he had to leave for work at 6:00 am because I couldn’t hold my eye se open another minute. Never thought twice about curling up in bed with our child who can only sleep with human touch. He rose to his role as a father when neither our baby nor myself had the words or energy to thank him. This wonderful guy shepherded our growing family through that first foggy phase of new parenthood, helping us to evolve and emerge into new and beautiful places.

Since that early hazy period, so much has changed; and this guy continues to grow as a father to meet the ever-changing demands of our toddler daughter. His success as a father is reflected in the joyful spark that lights up our daughter’s eyes. He is her favorite playmate, most brilliant teacher, hilarious entertainment, and all-around hero. Throughout the day a chorus of “Poppa” echoes through our house (long before there were any utterances of “Momma”, I might add). And when the prodigal Poppa returns from work each day, the excited squeals emitted by our one-year-old could rival a group of tweens at a One Direction concert. He is her world, and it’s such a stunning sight to see.

I was the girl who always wanted to be a mother; my husband was the guy who was more reluctant to become a father. Yet everyday he is the one who is teaching me how to do this parenthood thing. He shows me that being a parent isn’t about the rules or expectations, it’s everything that lies in between – the endless capacity to love, the inspiring opportunities to play, the wonder of seeing the world through a new perspective and learning together, always together.

These are the things that make a great father, and these are the qualities that I’ve loved to see take flight in my husband as he embraces his role of proud Poppa and boldly leads our daughter into a world of limitless opportunity.

IMG_5611

This guy is simply the best.

The Greatest Adventure of All

Anyone who knows Andrew and I know that we love adventure. The drive to pursue paths that are out of the ordinary seems ingrained in our souls. We seek out experiences that make each day unpredictable and completely unique from the one before. This sense of adventure has taken us from Washington, DC to South Florida, from Tennessee to Europe, and now to Alaska.

IMG_1081.JPG

Yet these adventures pale in comparison to the thrill and unpredictability of simple everyday living together. In just one short year, we’ve discovered that marriage is our greatest adventure to date. Both more challenging at times, and more rewarding overall, than either of us ever could have imagined. There have been moments when we’re trekking over rough terrain, uphill, with all the elements bearing down upon us. We think we couldn’t possibly go one more step. But our strength and unity carries us and somehow we reach the the summit once again. The beauty up there is breathtaking and we know we would make the climb a thousand times over just to see this majestic beauty – the love and life we have created together. So we capture that beauty and love and carry it with us, over the tough trails and the mundane paths, always forward. Sometimes not knowing where the path may lead, but always trusting in this adventure we’ve chosen together.

IMG_1116.JPG

IMG_1117.JPG

It’s this journey of learning and loving through marriage that prepares us for what lies ahead – the greatest adventure of all – parenthood. We are overjoyed to announce that we’re growing our family and will have a new little one to join in the fun and adventure next March!

Having children is something we have both spent a lifetime looking forward to – the culmination of so many hopes and dreams. What could be more important, more adventurous, than bringing someone new into this great big world and teaching then how to live and love and embrace all it’s beauty? We’re so honored to have this opportunity.

There’s no doubt that the path to parenthood will be filled with so many new and wonderful adventures, as well as it’s own share of challenges. The months and years ahead will be unpredictable for sure, which is both exhilarating and terrifying. But the rewards, getting to watch our child grow, are already so very extraordinary.

IMG_1114.JPG

We’re overwhelmed with excitement for every step of this next great adventure! We love you so much already little one…