I've had this post sitting in a note on my phone for at least a few weeks. It was originally going to be all about how three months into this, we've finally figured out how to be on top of things; how our house doesn't look like something exploded, how to have time for ourselves and our marriage, how Mowgli is consistently exercised, and how I even started reincorporating showers into my regular routine. But then, life. It happens. God calls Ryan to a second job, then he almost fractures his spine (no exaggeration - a neck brace was involved), dear friends get sick(er), Landon goes through a Leap during a difficult week, making for even more difficult days. LIFE. So my posting gets postponed, and I wonder the point (of a lot of things, honestly.) 

I mean, it's like one moment you're dreaming of your future husband, wondering who he could be, when you will find him, asking all the questions. And the next moment you've been married for almost three years, you are not working on your Masters after all, but you do have a three-month-old baby. You can cross throwing-coffee-grinds-everywhere-in-exasperation off your bucket list (mhm, yup. good one, Kayla), and instead of working to change the lives of kids on the autism spectrum, you spend most of your days sporting a messy bun and sour-milk-smelling lulu lemon leggings that you've owned since grade 11 (because somehow in their stretched-out-glory they still fit you). You don't feel like you have that youthful glow that you're supposed to have in your twenties, and if it appears that way it's probably just the whole lack-of-showering thing. 

So things were kind of dark for a while, or at least it felt that way. And sometimes I have to wonder, is this where we're supposed to be? Did we do something wrong? Did we miss a message? 

For me, it's this heart-tearing dichotomy between wanting to use the knowledge and passions God has given me to change lives of kids with special needs like I've always dreamed, but then also just simply wanting to be an all-in mom, focused fully on framing a love filled life for my Landon. It's a heavy burden, knowing that we can only do this once. I feel pressured with the weight of that, and not in a bad way. Just in a real, raw, sacred way. I mean, he's a gift - entrusted to our care. We are meant to raise him to be the man God intended him to be, to the best of our abilities, as well as we can. For as long as he's in our care, as his mom, that's my primary role. 

It could be anxiety provoking if I didn't have Someone to cast my anxieties on, and even still, it's a battle. I never imagined I'd be anxious about other people influencing him. Holding him. Loving him in a different way than me. I never imagined that when I made the smallest mistakes, the burden would become a bad thing. 

Nevertheless, here I am. Because I came across a message from someone a long time ago, letting me know that my writing is an encouragement. It's important to remember that it's not really about me, it's about God through me. 

So here's the real. The raw. The wrinkly, rough, rainy realities of this season. 

In the milk stained mess of it all, we are learning our new rhythm. 

We know now, that we need to put aside what we feel in the broken moments and choose to believe what we know to be true above all else. We need to breathe in the fresh air, we need time for our marriage, we need time to enjoy being a family. That means leaving our messy home, or just ignoring it, or seriously embracing it. Moving away from picture-perfect, and allowing our living room to look like we live in it as a family. Letting it be a safe-haven, a resting place, a discussion table, a heart beat. We have little eyes on us, and our attitudes, our expressions, the way we handle our home and each other, it matters most of all. We need prayer as a pattern, God's word as a weapon. We need grace so freely given and trust in His ultimate timing. 

The real is that it's all messy, but in every season we have a reason to sing because we have already been saved from the wrinkles that life (inevitably, always) brings.

Photo Credit: Katie St. Pierre 

When God Breathed Life

Early this morning I lay awake holding Landon, waiting for Ryan to come back to our hospital room with breakfast, and I turned on the playlist that I had made to listen to on the way to the hospital six days ago. Reckless Love was the first song to play, and for the first time ever while listening to a song, tears started sliding down my cheeks. I remembered my dad's text from the night before (when Landon was finally able to be taken out of his incubator and held by his family for the first time):

As I drove home today I heard “Reckless Love” playing, and I couldn’t help but think of Landon and the words:

Before I spoke a word, You were singing over me

You have been so, so good to me

Before I took a breath, You breathed Your life in me

You have been so, so kind to me.

Thanks so much for today. 

Such a blessing to hold him.

God is so good to our family.

I'm not a crier. I don't cry during sad movies, and I don't cry over sad songs. My tears are usually out of frustration or fear. But this morning they were tears that moved past the 'what ifs.' God has made himself known through the smallest details this past week and my tears this morning were of pure praise and gratitude for a God who loves my family so well; a God who cares about the tiniest seven-pound baby enough to breathe life into him.

--- 

Ryan and I didn't have a lot of expectations about Landon's birth since it's our first baby and we didn't really know what to expect. Ryan and I were really ready to roll with whatever happened. But from the beginning of the day on July 18 (at approximately 3:30am) nothing went as planned. Lakeridge Oshawa was full, so we ended up in Ajax; my midwives weren't able to make it to the hospital (?!); my blood pressure and heart rate were too high so I was encouraged to get an epidural sooner rather than later - whether I wanted one or not; the anesthesiologist made a mistake with the first epidural (resulting in a 7 day migraine); and then there was the delivery.

Landon Thomas Lloyd was born Wednesday, July 18, 2018, at 5:37pm. He was 7lb, 1oz, 22 inches long, his hair with the slightest strawberry tinge and his eyes wide and bright. But his skin was grey. He wasn't breathing. The umbilical cord had been wrapped around his neck three times, so the nurses and doctors began pumping him full of oxygen. It took a long time for him to start breathing (eight entire minutes, I was later told), and as a result of all the oxygen that was put into his body, he also ended up with air pockets around his heart.

I don't think there is any way I could have felt more helpless. After the nurses wheeled me into the NICU, I was able to get about a foot away from Landon's incubator where I heard the most heartbreaking sound of him struggling to breathe. I had been a mother for only a few hours and was already at a loss. And how did this even happen?! He was perfectly healthy inside me only a few hours ago.

The next five days were nothing short of a nightmare, and I can't even remember the majority of what happened. It's a messy, traumatic blur in my mind. I do remember that we weren't allowed to hold him until Sunday - his body was covered in bruises from resuscitation, so the stimulation of physical touch was too much for him to handle. He also had an IV that was very tenderly placed through his umbilical line and there was a high risk of it coming loose if he was taken in and out of his incubator.

Yesterday (Monday) we got to hold him for the first time; we could touch him with no restrictions or fear of his health being compromised. Five days after his birth I finally felt like Landon's mom, and not just a visitor in the NICU, playing pretend with the nurse's babies.

---

Despite these horribly dark six days, God's hand has been so present in the smallest details. From Sick Kids being 'coincidentally' present in the room during Landon's resuscitation and able to consult on his case, to the worship music that played in the NICU the morning that his umbilical line was successfully removed, God knew.

When I was helpless on Wednesday night, at a loss for how to help my baby, God knew.

When it hurt too much for Landon to be snuggled, God held him close.

When Landon almost didn't make it, God breathed His life into him.

Our God loves so, so well. He is so, so good.

Two. Whole. Years.

Today is our second anniversary. Two whole years as husband and wife, and I can't decide if that feels way too short, or really really long. Sometimes I can't remember what-happened-when and it's all a blurry mess of busyness and school and stress amidst happy dinner dates and fun road trips and late night tea drinking. And other times it seems like it was last week that we were traveling to Cambridge with a trailer full of wedding decorations ready to embark on our happiest adventure yet.

A lot has happened in these two years. We've had a lot of great moments and many adventures, but we've worked through some serious trials too. Especially this past year, I think we learned more than ever before.
- We learned that fighting is actually an okay thing.
- And when we do have a fight late at night, sometimes we've just gotta sleep. Sometimes, we'll both have clearer heads in the morning.
- We don't have to have everything figured out to be happy. We can be content in the unknown.
- We don't already need to have bought a house. (Yes, we're married, but we're still only 22 and 23).
- Our house doesn't always have to be spotless in order to relax.
- Sometimes it's better to leave the sink piled high with dirty dishes and just spend time together not doing chores.

After two years, I thought we'd have most things figured out by now. I mean, with all we've encountered, sometimes I really wonder why we haven't. I wonder why I'm still short with him so often. Why I still get irritated about his toast crumbs on the counter. Why, sometimes, he is so forgetful (I mean, I know it frustrates him too). And I wonder why we fight over the seemingly silliest small things that we don't even remember a week later.

People could say a lot of things right now. "It's communication." "There must be underlying issues." "Have you read the Love Languages?" And that's when I would politely avoid rolling my eyes  (haha, just kidding, kind of). I appreciate all the advice, and people are right. Communication is the cause of so many problems. Underlying issues are important. The Love Languages need to be considered. But you know what? We could have those three things mastered and our marriage still wouldn't be perfect. The real answer is that we never really will have it figured out. We'll never get it all right. We'll never find a magic formula for a perfect marriage. There's no such thing.

Marriage isn't a checklist or a book of rules we're supposed to follow. It's a covenant. A choice. A promise that no matter what, we're in this together.

When one of us makes a mistake, we'll work through it together. 
When one of us has a victory, big or small, we'll Praise Him together. 
When we just don't know, we'll find the answer together. 
When we're both mad and really don't want to be in the same room, we'll fight that wall between us and work it out together. 

We will pray together, we will climb mountains together, we will walk those long trails ahead of us together, and we will rejoice together. Because this is marriage.

Twenty-three years from now, we will know each other even more than we do now, and I'm sure we will have a lot more 'figured out.' Our communication will probably be better, and our love languages will be even more 'second-nature' than they already are. But we still won't have a perfect marriage.

If we keep doing it all together, though, and if we keep Christ as our foundation, we will have a really good marriage. A marriage that will be strong through any trial, and a marriage that will be seen, not as the 'best' or 'most romantic' or 'happiest' or '#goals,' but as real and God-honouring.

That is our goal.

So, Ryan, I promise to choose you every morning and every night and every hour in between. I promise to look to you as our leader and build on Christ as our center.

Knowing all of the not-knowing that lies ahead, I choose you.



-kj❀