The girls spent all summer watching Sing. There’s a line that I’m hearing as I write this, “Do you know what’s good about hitting rock bottom? There’s only one way left to go, and that’s up.” So there I went, carried by a bushel of balloons, just like in the movie Up. (Can you tell we let our kids watch a lot of TV?)

I decided to submerge myself in the head faith that had been cemented so deeply, and let my heart follow, no matter how slowly and far behind she chose to go. I decided to apply to grad school. I sat for hours talking to my dad about my longed-for-future-husband, and how finding someone as great as him was by far the hardest part of rising up. But in that talk, never did I think that nine years, I’d actually have found him.

I never imagined that together, we’d be soaking up the smells of baby spit-up, and her sweaty little palms.

Never did I think that I’d be braiding hair, over the taste of flat coke at 8 a.m. I couldn’t have imagined the smiles I’d see as my twin girls found their surprises from the back-to-school fairy. Hah. TWINS. Do you think I ever imagined that?? Never did I imagine that I’d get to have my mom by my side for all the great moments of this stage. I miss my dad terribly, but God, am I ever so thankful for your provision…

But here we are. And 35, is just the best most possible year yet.

I asked Trey on Sunday how old I was turning. I blame it on the mom brain because admitting how old I am (as evidenced by my memory loss) is too painful in the silliest of ways. That, and honestly, mom brain is something I never knew I always wanted. The loud screams, both theirs and mine, that make it so incredibly hard to focus on anything other than “Lord, I need you NOW.” The “hurry, hurry, we’re going to be late,” while juggling a pacifier, a water bottle, a pull-up, and a cheese stick while buckling two kids into the car seats– all things that also contribute to said mom brain daily. The “stop pulling her hair,” said with a baby on a boob while trying to break up a toddler catfight…yes, still possibly the best year yet.

It’s the year my dad rejoined our family in the form of our Robbie. The year the girls started dance. The year they started preschool. I couldn’t have asked for a better present either than the deafening silence in our home…once again contributing to my mom brain as I ask myself, “What do I do now…” to which I just looked at the clock and said to Trey… “oh no, I forgot about Robbie!”

My father-in-law texted me birthday wishes today, to which I responded, “The best gift, by far, is the quiet home.” My sister-in-law and nephew called not long after, and the first thing she asked was how my emotions were handling today. It’s funny because most of my other friends have texted to check how Trey was doing. To be honest, there were almost no fallen tears… I’ll let you guess whose tears were the ones to fall.

For me, goodness gracious of course I had tears in my eyes. How, oh how, oh how did we arrive here? Those balloons haven’t stopped floating since the moment the girls were born. I joked at the silence, but in those quiet moments (after I remembered Robbie and started to feed her), I smiled pride. The same pride, I remember my dad smiling upon me, as he watched me rise back up. Because this is their time to rise. And oh my Lord, don’t they look so good doing it…

beholding these blessings and life and redemption and these moments that are fleeting so quickly.

Twelve months!

If you know me, you know my “real” dream has been to blog, blog, and blog some more of my mom-life, even as a non-mom at 24…guess what?! That 24 year old had no idea that mom-life would have next to no room at all for blogging. Instead that mom-life would be filled with drool soaked onesies, and bucked little teeth, and stroller poop blowouts, and two little dancing queens that would fill my heart so full that my brain couldn’t even handle. Translation: mom-brain on steroids.

I posted a photo of Trey and I yesterday while we were on one of our dates…which sadly has had to become more purposeful than effortless over the last year. Our date included two fast food stops and a quick target run (full disclosure: publically writing that throws on a little mom-guilt because, oops, my girls are barely one and are eating fast food…but hello- as with every other thing I say this year… I have twins. So yeah, I proudly ordered those grilled nuggets to get out of cooking. Give me that hall pass y’all.)

Any way…said date included fifteen minutes in a target parking lot; my brother in law texted us exactly nineteen minutes later to ask about the action we were bringing (giving) to the Fredericksburg Target parking lot. Lots of action, Tav. We have two twelve month olds….

“Action” these days includes running after a new walker, chasing two littles up (and down) the stairs, losing one in a closet, the other in the pantry. Action looks like Trey lying to me about leaving work late, to pick me up for another “date” when he knows I’ve had a long, hard day of momming. And for the most part, I’m doing just fine with this kind of action.

The fifteen minutes of uninterrupted time in the wrong target parking lot, no crying, no clingy third leg, no upset sister screaming in the background for a stolen toy, it’s an unseen and unheard noise we’re learning to embrace with one another. Talks of new things to pray about, career goals, parenting goals, and yeah even some life-logistics, all part of that fifteen minute action at target. But okay, we’ll take it.

I suppose missing the parking lot action before is partly my fault, though I’d never admit it…. I was too busy doing my happy dances over one year portraits, and a much needed family get-away (that really included FAMILY), and a rescheduled birthday party that had to have it’s theme written in the tiny details because that’s just how I do. And this season, in this season, I told myself that it was okay…missing the action with my husband. Newsflash people: don’t miss the action with your husband. Two new job titles in our lives and here we were, trading in that other kind of marital action for a different kind… Question: Can quick action mom hands to catch “tamiflu projectile vomit” and quick action dad hands to catch flying baby that mom threw count as marital “action?” Wait. I think I’m doing it again. Making excuses for us and our super exciting, kid-filled marriage. It’s just a season I tell myself, and one that we prayed to have for a very long time…

On the girls’ actual birthday, I didn’t know how to “parent” on social media. Should I do a sappy post? A one-liner post? Or should I just post a picture announcing their birthday and wait for my sappy husband to do the rest? I chose the latter… making sure to acknowledge our love for one another because if there’s anything at all I want to remember of this past year, it’s how in this season, we made it, still healthy-ish of a team for our babies and for one another. I probably didn’t know it when they were born (p.s. I’m still dying to do a birth story post before my mom brain complete wipes the memory), but aside from keeping the babies alive, keeping “us” alive was the next, most important goal. And in this season, we’re still breathing and still very much in love. Yay, US!

12 months in, and the action just looks a little different.
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For Trey, our action probably looks like invisible eye rolls behind every “sure” and “yes, dear” to my every idea of “it’s for the girls.” If there was an Oscar for “Best Supporting Dad” he’d be on his way to a second. And…I LOVE that about his “action” over the last twelve months.

“Trey. We CAN NOT/WILL NOT do cake smash portraits. Everyone does that and our girls are NOT everyone. I am not every. one.”

“Yes, Dear.”

“Trey. They need pajamas that no one else is going to have.”

“Sure.”

“Trey. I need the cricut for Christmas so that I can make things…for the girls.”

And thank goodness that was a “Yes, Dear.” Because it really has taken my party planning to the very next level.

“Trey. I’m ready for my new camera body…” That’s been my favorite “Yes, Dear YET!”

Let’s start with the portraits (because let’s be real… that’s why you’re here isn’t it?! Thanks for humoring me and emoting with me all the marital bliss of our first year with kids!).

I decided during one of my more recent cake smash sessions, that I didn’t want it for my girls. Maybe it was the photographer in me that had done it just enough times that though while still ABSOLUTELY adorable, I wanted something I haven’t seen a lot of. Something messy, but something that I could carry into the theme of their party and something that would give me a professional “newness” to get excited about.

As an older “ish” mom, I’ve learned to schedule kid parties at their happiest time of day! For us, that meant BRUNCH. Helloooooo “Pancakes and Pajamas!” Have you ever baked with a kid? How about two eleven month olds?! Cue the MESS.

Before the pictures, the girls had never had pancakes. This was a perfect time to try them, and thankfully, they loved them!

After the novelty of sitting on mom’s counter to eat lunch wore off, it was go time. I ordered their chef hats off of amazon and staged the mixer with flour and water and let them go to town.

If you ever wonder about their personalities, here’s my most favorite picture that best describes them; Elsie dominating her sister. It really is a new occurrence every day. This might be a good time to tell you that Hannah really is the happiest baby. If you see her fussy, it’s quite probable that she is BEYOND frustrated with her sister taking things from her, crawling on top of her, and yes, trying to shove things into her mouth—like faux pancake batter.

It’s funny, not really, but just one bath and one short nap after the girls’ portraits, Elsie had a 102.8 fever. Our favorite friend who also happens to be the most amazing pediatrician we could ask for just moved an hour away, so in the car we went to get a quick nose swab…four days before their birthday party and oh yeah, 56 people had already RSVP’d. Hello Flu A, it’s SO NICE to meet you, come stay awhile, infect our house!

I spent the next 48 hours with a velcro-ed Elsie to my chest listening to her painful whimpers. In those early morning hours as I felt her breathing, I cried (which I don’t do a lot of, I swear). Those quiet tears streamed down my face as I reminisced other early morning hours of her sleeping on my chest, listening to her baby snores, smelling her tiny little head. And somehow here we were, a year later. That was good therapy, good FREE therapy that I needed. I wish my daughter got the flu every time I needed a break from major mom things like party planning…said no one ever, I think. Newsflash: I’ve now reached the milestone in motherhood where I secretly love my child being sick for the forced snuggles I receive. Come on, you know I’m not alone here….

Doctor-Uncle Paul put Hannah on a prophylactic dose of Tamiflu and she was sent to my mom’s house (aka in back of the kitchen) with a buttload of prayers. We waited and waited but dang; that tamiflu really does work wonders! I missed her terribly and felt this tremendous guilt of “how will I ever spread the love evenly and fairly?” Having two at once has quickly taught me about balance…at least quicker than most parents probably…I’m still getting there…well maybe…who am I kidding— WILL I EVER GET THERE?!

By the end of the week I was sick. Trey was sick. Hannah escaped with just a cold. And mom had an asthma-flare up. FUN TIMES.

We woke up that Tuesday morning (their actual birthday) in a panic. Um. I had no cake for them. Their presents weren’t wrapped…and oh yeah we just got back from a four day weekend away (originally planned for the four of us, turned plus seven) and we needed some serious introverting time. And p.s. What’s for dinner?!

They had no idea.

My mom gave them this tent from IKEA which they love. Later that week, my aunt gave them the attaching tunnel. SO PERFECT!

Trey came home early from work. His new job was sending him on his first business trip the next day and my anxiety was through the roof. I soaked up the time he had with us as though it was our last. Our little family of four.

The very, VERY best part of the day was when our Elsie girl took her first steps… on her first birthday… before her Daddy left us for the next 36 hours. You military wives, and all other wives with traveling husbands, I have the UTMOST respect for you.

I had decided to get the girls “dressed up” ish so they could pick out their very own birthday cupcakes. It was actually a very underwhelming event so no pictures to share…MUCH to my disappointment because you KNOW this will now be our tradition… long story short we won’t be returning to the shop. Cupcake shop recommendations, anyone?

The girls invited their very best friends, our neighbors from across the street…

How are y’all doing? Still hanging with me? I promise I’m getting to the party next!

With three days left before their party, I felt so unprepared. The truth was, I wasn’t *that* unprepared. I had been working one goal a day for almost a month leading up to their party. Little details like brunch menus at the tables and a pretty banner, games, that part was ready. It was the cooking. Now, I love me some good dinners, but cooking breakfasts has never been my forte but we managed. Mom and I pre-made 87 pancakes! I have two tried and true breakfast dishes, and that’s about it. We let God do the rest!

If you’ve never had my grain-free egg casserole, you’re going to want this. And the omg French toast casserole can be found here. I’m thankful for instant, ready-made sausage, bacon cooks, and a sister who bakes and understands without question my enneagram. If there’s one person I will relinquish control to, it will always be her. She gets me, and all my over the top visions. She blew my cake vision OUT OF THE PARK!

One of the big lessons motherhood has taught me is that it’s okay to lose some vision along the way. With everything else going on, I completely forgot to make food labels to go on these cute place setting hearts that I had found in the target dollar spot. Thankfully our neighbors have that high school girl handwriting and filled in the gaps perfectly!

I wanted bright and cheery and breakfast. Fruit loops were our cheap table decor!

I was telling Marisa (my sister-cousin) that it was so obvious that the girls have a mom for a photographer. Ha! I meant a photographer for a mom. More cheap table decor- kraft paper runners with prints from their first vacation, first haircuts, first holidays, even first picture together. I then added a little description below each one.

I also wanted to be sure to use some photos from their one year portraits as decor around the house. This was a guest sign-in poster that I had printed at Walgreens. (That alone was the most painful part of the party planning. As a photographer, I don’t ever want to know if that’s where you’re printing your photos… eek!! with the poor quality.)

We placed ziplock bags with cereal boxes that had been cut up as a minute to win it game for people to play when they were done eating.

We ended up having about 45 people at the party– not that many less than we had originally expected and knowing that they all were there to celebrate our girls was the most wonderful feeling! We’re so thankful for all that have stood by us over the last four years. To say we’ve been blessed is the understatement of the century. We feel it, with every hug, prayer, text from you. Thank you!!

We’ve decided that the girls will forever be welcomed at every Bressler party ever. They’re the key to success and FUN!

We’ve been pals for a LONG time, a few marriages and now babies. God is so, so good!

This picture makes me miss my dad a lot. Like “tears to my eyes as I look at it” kind of miss him. All the things I feel like he’s missing… but his presence and legacy is something we’re most proud to carry on.

remember that part about Elsie stealing things from her sister….

and remember that other part about Elsie crawling on top of her sister…

I found these robes at HomeGoods the week before the party. How perfect are they?! And if you’ve seen any photos or stories that include my girls, chances are you’ve seen their infamous bed head. The rollers seemed much more appropriate than bows.

Marisa made two smash cakes– one for each girl. From the beginning we always said we’d need to find ways to give the girls their own birthday recognition. This was one way! If you notice, each girl also has different pajamas that I found on Etsy, Uno and One (remember, we’re Mexican!). We sang “Happy Birthday” to Elsie first (she’s two minutes older). We did the same thing on their actual birthday.

Hannah is slowly learning how to fight back!

For those wondering about that gorgeous Pancake Cake…buttercream with blueberry filling.

We ended the party with a pancake toss that Trey put together. The kids grabbed a partner, a plate, and some toss pancakes. I made the toss pancakes out of rice, felt, and hot glue. SO EASY… also cheap! They had fun and we all enjoyed watching too. Elsie was screaming cheering all her friends and cousins on!

One last detail to the party that isn’t really pictured. I decided I want to make a tradition of it, so I’m sharing it here. I made a slide show of all of our big events that we watched together on the eve of their birthday and then that played on the AppleTV throughout their party. It brought tears to our eyes, and was super fun to share with others. The girls must have a mom for a photographer… it’s truly the best way to capture all the action. HAH!

Oh- but on that note, one last thing and I promise not a super long soapbox. Guys, find a photographer for your kids’ birthday parties. We did this even for my dad’s last birthday party. Wait, find a photographer for all the big events.. and hey, you already know one! 1- it’s so much more enjoyable to host, and 2- they’ll be pictures of you after your dead. Seriously. My friend Stacie came to the party and I am so so soooo thankful for these memories of our perfect, little family at the girls’ first birthday party.

The end. For real. THE. END.

These are the days of our best life yet.  I was talking to our friend a few weeks ago about how parenthood can sometimes be like marriage.  I wouldn’t know because I’m not entirely there yet.. but the parts that stretch us further than we ever thought we could be stretched… the patience that tries to sink us deeper than we can swim, the triumphs that make us prouder but not until we’re on the other side… all part of these glory days that God has ordained in the midst of His great creation.  And so again, that’s why I say we’re living out best lives yet.  That- and we are currently somewhere in the middle of Nebraska and Virginia completing a 10-day road trip across my HOME.  side note but only because I know he’ll say something otherwise-Trey is quick to remind me that he is my home… but to be honest, I don’t actually feel that as strongly as he does UNLESS, we’re in my “home” with the rest of my family… in Letcher.  I’ll write more about that soon.. believe me, I’ve got TONS of pictures to share but for now just this other one in the story of

when marriage meets parenthood…

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I have spent months, chatting up with so many of you lovely people.  Not just the routine “hi’s” but intimate conversations that have allowed me vulnerability and every time we hear words like “Your story [fill in the blank]” our hearts do some sort of humble yet glorious dance in thanks that God chose us for this journey.  I used to read this verse in James about pure joy in the midst of trials, and laugh.  That was until you all.

I think this is where my friend would compare parenthood to marriage; the way that things just suck so badly, you have no choice but to laugh (and find the joy somewhere in between)!  Track with me- it’s like sharpie marker on a white sofa that you know you’ll never be able to remove or get out but you know you have to keep the joy because Jojo is still your kid, and gee golly she’s cute!  For us, it’s this infertility that tests your our patience for a bigger plan as we sit buried in question after question, doubt after doubt hoping at some point we’ll come out of our own “white sofa” but still keeping the joy because we KNOW there IS a bigger plan.

It’s the disappointments and “oh no’s” where all you can do is laugh!  And this we know well.  In a moment of insensitivity and guardedness, I snapped at Trey a week after our last transfer.  “Trey- why did you pray for our babies… you know if they didn’t actually implant, they’re dead by now.”  I laughed, but the patience and joy of marriage (much like I assume we’ll come to know in parenthood) superseded as my terrific and VERY understanding husband hid his hurt feelings in some welled up tears and placed his faith and hope a little deeper in our God because at the time I couldn’t.  Thank you God for Trey!  And here we are, 11 weeks later.  And thank God because I’ve found my joy again.  11 weeks and 5 days later.

Almost 12 weeks.  In case you’re wondering that’s somewhere around 75 of my big-butt-shots, 2 pregnancy tests (because clearly the first one couldn’t be right), 3 blood tests (just to make sure), 1 really awful night of what “they” call “morning” sickness (whoever “they” might be… “they” are wrong, by the way), and 4 ultrasounds and 1 really cool chromosomal test (more on that later).  ALLLLL to find out that after 2.5 years of infertility, the best way God could ever teach us about that “joy in the midst of trials” stuff I was just talking about, would be to entrust us with twins.

Behold you guys!  The Happily Ever Bresslers are adding TWO to their nest.  TWO!  Do you think that’s one for each year of infertility?  Or just double the blessings because of my husband’s noteworthy and very joyous faith that carried us out of that low valley of sharpie markers on white sofas?  God really did hear us (AND YOU), and now, we’re having twins! (p.s. in case you were wondering why I look a little larger than 11 weeks and 5 days, it’s because TWINS)

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I told my brother first.  Though we hardly talk any more, I feel stupidly connected to his sensitive side that in my mind brings me closer to my dad.  And then I told my sister-cousin– the one who paved a way for me when I had no idea I’d ever need it.  I texted my cousin who walks a parallel heartache, and along with her all the special people we’ve met along the way who are still walking their own heartaches and desires with a bravery that only we “get to” know.

BTW- my in-laws, and my mom, and my south dakota-mom all found out when we did.  The conversation went like this “Well, the doctor heard a strong and healthy heartbeat….” (insert screams and tears) “…and then she heard a second!” (insert louder screams and tears).  This all might sound familiar to you because it’s also how we told each one of you that has prayed on our behalf, reached out with sincerity and truly believed when we couldn’t, that our day would come.

We’ve been amazed at all our friends who have unknowingly said the same thing, “OH MY GOSH, I have goosebumps and I’m crying!” LIKE- for us!  What have we done to ever be so deserving of your love and support.

But there will be miracles.  There are miracles.

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There’s a passage in Scripture that for forever– like since I was 15 that I’ve read and reread, and reread again with such amazement at the power of God within… and I need to share it with you.  Mary is newly pregnant with Jesus and she goes to visit her sister Elizabeth (also pregnant). At the sound of Mary’s voice Elizabeth’s baby leapt in her womb; and she (Elizabeth) was filled with the Holy Spirit (Luke 1:39-55).

I get it now.  I totally get it.  We sat at our last ultrasound, tears of joy streaming down our faces as we watched our children “leap” in my womb.  Their little arms and butts wiggling like dancers, and I could FEEL God’s power within me telling me that I’ve been healed.

Maybe this passage had been preparing me for that ultrasound day all along…?  Because somehow it came so naturally and I did what Mary did; I prayed a silent but VERY JOYOUS prayer that sounded so much like hers in that moment with her sister.

My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior.  For He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is His name.

There will be miracles, and here is ours that we’ve found in the joy when our own marriage met parenthood.

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There is so much more I want to say.  So much to fill in the gaps that I know so many of you are begging to know.  And I promise I will in time.  Trey wanted to wait to post this as long as we could which I completely understand.  And for those of you (THERE ARE A LOT) who have kept it a social media secret, we are so grateful!  We’ve tried so hard to be respectful to those that are in their own “sharpie on a white couch” moments.  I said earlier on as we’ve publicized our infertility journey that I would only share here to be sensitive to A LOT of people we knew before and that we know now because of our choice to be open… but I also know that in our quest to be personal we can’t possibly be 100% successful, so please, a gentle, subtle reminder to only comment here (and also if you want to know more, be sure to subscribe).  Please don’t be surprised if I delete your comment from my Facebook post.

We love you all!  We are thankful for you ALL!  AND we love these sweet and very healthy miracles.

So here we go…Currently I am sitting in the waiting room as Nicole goes into surgery to retrieve what we pray will be a lot of healthy and viable eggs (if you don’t know what an egg retrieval is, it’s a procedure where a needle goes through my wife’s cervix to reach her ovaries to find some eggs.  Guys- if you want to empathize, image a needle going into your favorite man part for some boys… yeah.)

It feels like I have been doing this a lot lately; sitting and waiting and empathizing as best as I know how.  Sitting there watching her cry as she takes all these hormone injections..well standing actually while I am giving them to her but in reality, it feels like I am sitting in the stands and she is doing all the work.   I spend the other time waiting; waiting for the injections to work and waiting to start the family we so desperately want.  But I know and trust with all my heart that God has a plan for us and will give us that family in his time.  Knowing and trusting a God that has been so faithful to us has gotten Nicole and I through this difficult time.  Our families and friends (those who know) have been very helpful as well.  So I thank you guys!!!

I didn’t know much about infertility a couple years ago but have really learned a lot.  I mean, when you think about it, what man does (outside of an OBGYN or an RE–guys, that’s code for reproductive endocrinologist, something I actually just learned today)?  I am so amazed at the strength and determination of my wife and all the other women who struggle.  I find it takes a special person to fight this battle.  I say it takes a “special person” because they not only have to deal with their infertility but also listen to and hear people (friends and family included) saying “it will happen when you least expect it” or “just enjoy having sex” or “you are still young” all of which seem to crush my wife in her own silent way because news flash: THIS IS A MEDICAL DIAGNOSIS.  Believe me, and even though my mom is reading this and probably already crying, we do enjoy the sex!  But I repeat, this is not a “wait and see” situation, it is a medical diagnosis.  While I know people are trying to be supportive and I appreciate that, it is difficult for not just women to hear, but the guys too.  If I could, I would gladly take this burden from her a hundred times over.  It’s hard for us guys to sit and watch our women’s hearts drop over and over again at the miseducated and uninformed “knowledge” of infertility and this struggle.

But man, I’d be lying if I didn’t say infertility sucks!  It sucks because like I already said, a lot of people don’t understand it and it’s not that they aren’t sympathetic..it’s that they don’t realize the affects of their words at all in these sensitive situations.  When Nicole decorated our room, someone took one look at it and said, “Why can’t you make a baby in here?!”  It’s not the motive of people that hurts us, but rather the kind ignorance to the pain of infertility.  But I was one of those people a few years ago too..so I can’t fault them.

I sit on these sidelines witnessing in amazement the number of “special” women that go through this alone.  It really has been amazing (and not in a good way) to see so many who are going to appointments alone and a lot of times I am the only man at these clinics.  We know that my job is a huge blessing because not only do I have the freedom to attend every appointment, every day, but I also have a supportive boss who tells us he is praying for us all the time.  I don’t say that to get a pat on the back, but rather to say that men NEED to find a way to step up.  God teaches us that marriage is sacrificial in every way– if He’s calling you in the most blatant way, this is how.  It doesn’t matter what the infertility diagnosis is, we are in this together and it should come natural for us to be there with our wives.  It’s a non-negotiable.

Ok..I’m getting off my soap box.

We have been blessed with so many nephews/nieces and many other kids through our volunteering time at CPC and other churches.  We really are blessed to have so many young hearts in our lives.  We thank God all the time for the opportunity to love each of his children so sacrificially.  But for the first time ever, I am going to be honest and say, that is not enough.   And I haven’t even told Nicole that!  I want to be a father and share my heart with a son or daughter.  I want to play catch and watch the Cowboys with my son or watch my daughter play with barbies as she grows into a beautiful young lady.

I have strong faith in the Lord and I try to lead us with every fiber of my being into a stronger relationship with him, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t screamed at him a lot over the past couple years.  Nicole and I have both cried many tears and asked him “why us” or “why would you deprive two faithful people who have such a strong heart the opportunity to raise a child into your kingdom!?!?” But having such a foundational faith, we know that we are going to be parents someday.

We also believe that God has chosen us because he knows how strong we are and wants us to be a voice for infertility.  I’ll admit when she shared this peace she was finally realizing, I wasn’t excited about going “public” in this realm.  But to see the outpour and impact that Nicole’s last post and Instagram stories have encouraged, I know we can no longer be quiet about our sad hearts.   I don’t know exactly how yet, but I will no longer be quiet about our struggles or journey because it needs more voices.  Maybe that means I’ll be making more appearances here.  Maybe it means I’ll be telling all the expectant and struggling dad’s I know to “be there.”  What ever it is, I vow here, to all of you, I will not be quiet!

I said it before and I’ll say it for the rest of my life– infertility sucks but there is no one else I would rather do it with.
Have I said how amazing my wife is?!?  She has been carrying this infertility monkey on her back for a while and still has time to operate a successful business (public thanks to Erin even though I’m still the BYP CEO), run our household, take care of me, grieve Robert’s death, and very easily transitioned into taking care of her mom amidst family strife.  She really is superwoman!  We may cry and scream in sadness, but we love each other and love and trust our God.  I wear a bracelet on my wrist everyday with my favorite Bible verse: Philippians 4:13 “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” God has chosen us to walk this road and I can honestly say that I am stronger today than I was yesterday or the day before because of it.  HE is and always will be there to guide and shape my life, our lives.

I wanted so badly to take a picture with my bad-ass, over achiever wife when she came out of the procedure. She said “But, I don’t feel like smiling.” I do, because I’m really proud of her, all the time.

We’re home now and she’s resting while I finish this up.  God gave us 37 eggs and for the record, my wife has the most beautiful ovaries I have ever seen (not that I’ve seen any others but still, those are some gorgeous ovaries).  But yes, I said 37 EGGS!!!!  I did say that my wife is Superwoman, right!?!?  But because I know some couples might not have 37 eggs in their retrieval, I want to be sensitive to you and call you superwoman too– it only takes one.

I want to end with this.  Please continue to pray for us and pray that Nicole will recover quickly because she is in A LOT of pain and still at risk for some complications as a result of being an overachieving egg producer; I guess that crazy paleo “lifestyle change” she has us on really has been working.  Please pray that those eggs will be mature enough to fertilize and leave us with some beautiful, viable babies (or as science calls them, embryos) so that we can implant when God says it’s time.  And guys- step up.  It doesn’t matter if you’re battling infertility or not.  God gave us these gifts in our wives, find some ways to love them a little more than you already do.  Our marriage has grown so much because of it!

Love you guys and thank you for allowing me to bomb Nicole’s page   This was pretty cool….maybe I will write again soon!

Signing off for now,

Trey (aka the Leader of the Happily Ever Bresslers)

1. DO HAVE A PLAN

I mentioned in my last post— you know, the “woe is me” post that I had to write because I literally couldn’t even yet still felt guilty about posting because lawd knows I hate attention seeking posts…. but there I went… so yeah, about that last post.  The Real Simple feature that will probably never be published but absolutely should be: Our Plan!

We live in a four story condo/townhome.  When we found it, we were so positively smitten with the layout that we didn’t even consider what moving in or out would entail… that and did you read that part above that said FOUR MONTHS into our relationship?!  That’s when we decided that we BOTH hate moving together.  Like legit hate.  My husband, he’s a saint that yells on two occasions, 1-when the Dallas Cowboys are playing, and 2-when George Mason refs are being stupid heads.  His wife aka yours truly yells on every other occasion, especially if the occasion is a relocation involving furniture removal.  BTW-Don’t ask me where that comes from… I think maybe I just have a loud and very passionate voice….

All that to say, we learned fast that if we ever moved out of this place (which surely wouldn’t be in two years) we’d own it and we’d own it good.  So- back in December I started researching moves and all things good and glorious for a smooth transition.  I bought labels, a spunky new binder, stickers, colored duct tape, and even brand new boxes so that each crease would be ours.  And seriously, we owned it.

Someplace in this pretty green binder were inventories of every box; special codes for each room of the house… and someplace in there I’m pretty sure my husband knocked a few years off of his life as he patiently listened to me gently firmly remind him of the inventories and of the need to use the tape dispenser at a certain angle for the best tape efficiency.  seriously.  but my gosh- THE INVENTORIES!!!

2. DON’T FREAK OUT..just kidding

Seriously.  Go back and read my last post.  Freak out, we just learned that in doing so we needed to be ready to jump right back in.. which unfortunately meant that the tape probably wasn’t going to get used as efficiently.  And it also meant that the inventories that so clearly documented and categorized every over-valued possession were most likely going to get lost in the madness of my personal need to “own” this move.

Maybe a better way to put it is: choose what to freak out about.  For us- it was my cry uncle moment that beckoned my Trey to stay home and help me in areas that I had nearly given up on.  Thursday might have actually been the best day for us in a long time… and that’s because we were swimming in the depths of Phase 1, but we were doing it together.

3. DO INVEST IN OTHERS

And speaking of our favorite together times: being with our student min kids.  For me, I’m like, woah– these kids, I’ve watched them grow for the past nine years into these amazing people, and Trey he’s all, “there’s actually kids like that?!”  Yeah, THERE ARE!  If you’re not investing in the now generation- do it… if nothing else, for the strength of the young men and women.  No just kidding… kind of.  But seriously, these guys and gal, gift straight from H.E.A.V.E.N.

I posted this photo of Chris with just one of my normal, little, sappy collection of words on Saturday morning because he came alone on a Friday night to help Trey load the mostly inventoried boxes and large pieces into our pod.  p.s. PODS are the bees knees and the cat’s pajamas.

Good Morning POD Day #2! We’re waking up tired, and exhausted but so thankful and rejuvenated by the help and love of some of our church family! @cmitch_44 I’ve have the privilege of witnessing your growth from middle school to now (A SENIOR!!)– you are selfless, caring, extremely intelligent, and most importantly and notable, Christ-like. People: you need to be friends with teenage (I mean… young adult) men who will give up a Friday night, annnnndd a Saturday afternoon to be with you and help you move. #nevermoreblessed #bringintheothers #letsdothis

A post shared by nicole || beholding blessings (@nicolebeholds) on Feb 25, 2017 at 3:21am PST

Naturally, the next morning, when my Trey woke up feeling ill, we felt much peace knowing that our Topher was returning to help, and this time with even more of our favorite students.  Funny how as soon as they walked into the mix they said, “Nicole, do we get special IG posts too?”

How about a blog post?!

But seriously.  I did senior pics for this girl– and every time I think too hard about her, I get teary and lost in my prayers because of God’s gracious work in her life.  She’s the best kind of sweet and sassy all in one and did I mention that she is hands-down, the most beautiful dancer.

And these other guys.  Let’s just say when Katie saw them coming it was like a moment of bliss, hallelujah chorus blaring, fancy gold halos around their handsome faces, and the words, “Chris is here… and he brought two more Mitchells!!!”  I have so much to say about this entire family but those are personal words that I’ll handwrite to their parents in the coming weeks.   They’ll be words of thanksgiving, and gladness, and pride of the men they’ve become, and humility of the opportunity to have been a part of it.  They were bringing stacks of boxes down THREE AT A TIME.  And they were loading that pod and owning it so much better than I was with my stupid green moving binder and silly labels.

But I can’t forget Marshall.  That sweet heart and smile of yours that is contagious: the way you make us laugh with your stories of life and happiness, you are the real deal.  A rarity among your generation.  All of you are really….

And there’s no way we could have done it without them.  No way.

Plus- in the end, Trey and I realized that the only way we could actually love moving together is by being together, with them.

So a new post.  To the Bressler movers:

You are something fierce…I can see it on your faces.  And you’re loved something fierce too.  You are Christ’s hands to the least of these… even us.  And we’re humbled to get to know you because we’re standing in your shadows as you go catch the world with your brilliance and strength.  It’s these little acts of kindness that are going to carry you into a success that God is writing for you each and every day.  Don’t stop.  Go get it.

ps. thank you.

4. DON’T LET YOUR HUSBAND GET THE FLU

Who knew that the shirt my Trey wore in that picture would be an exact prophesy of the hours that followed when all his strength and health were completely #demo’d.  And who knew that me, standing right there behind him, would follow soon enough in said prophesy.  Let me tell you something, when your house goes on the market in t-3 days, DO NOT, I REPEAT DO NOT, get the flu!

Ain’t no body got time for dat!

But as if he hadn’t proved himself a saint already, he was surely about to on Sunday when my parents came over to help us pack the last of the last (of this round).  And he sure proved himself all over again today when he helped me load the rest of the pod, him talking in a whisper, and me, well… I plead the fifth.  I don’t feel well, okay!

—

5.  DO STAY TOGETHER

The oven is cleaner than when we moved in, and the shower door is actually clear as glass as it should be.  And my vanity has less than 2 hair products on it because yeah, I packed that crapola, yes. I. did.  So Trey is now walking around painting touch ups and sniffling the yucks while I dizzily write to all y’all from my transformed office with a fever of about 101.

And Dear Trey, the love of my life: those words of frustration that went something like, “BUT IT WON’T FIT THAT WAY” and “WHY WON’T YOU JUST TRY IT?!” and “YOUR DAD IS SO MUCH NICER TO ME WHEN I USE THE TAPE,” I know they weren’t truly ours, but just words of our exhaustion and infirmities.  They were words just buried in the brutality of our grievance: selling our first home.

But let me tell you this- I’d do it all a thousand times over; to be at home, with you.

Phase 1: Out.

PART ONE:

I had an anxiety attack last night.  It wasn’t a big one like in years past, but it wasn’t a teensy, tiny one that I could get through without bringing out the good old lorazepam either.  That was the first time in a while too.  Shoot.

Sometimes, it just creeps up like that.  Here I am going through life doing a-okay: posting pictures of our new home, smiling happily and in love with my rock-star husband, and honestly going a little crazy over my near perfect moving binder complete with inventory spreadsheets of every box that’s now blocking simple walkways in our home.  Pretty irrevocable if you asked me.  In fact, I’m pretty sure that as little as 72 hours ago, I said something like this to Trey:

“Okay, don’t hold me to this….” (adding that in because… well… the reason for this post…)

“I actually kind of like moving.  It gives me this really awesome opportunity to purge and organize like crazy.  It’s giving me a vision for our new home that will surely NEED a feature in REAL SIMPLE when I’m through with it…”

Trey: <chokes on dinner> (because surely I must be kidding)

“But don’t hold me to it.”

My back hurts and I’m sick of the boxes that are taking up room in my home that’s reverting back into a plain old house with every photo that’s packed and every stray sock that’s thrown in the garbage.  And I legit cried over the wife I was last year when I was packing Trey’s coat and a receipt fell out.  I was reminded of date nights with him that didn’t have us at home with take-out watching Netflix.  I could almost put money on it that I was showered, did my make-up, AND EVEN blow-dried my hair… perhaps even gone for a run earlier too.  The point: we were intentional.

This damn life is like Mount Kilimanjaro right now- packing all day, every day, from the moment Trey leaves, right on into when he gets home (which for the record is at least ten hours).  And can I please just boycott my house and this home?!  And can we talk about my last post, is it ironic, Jesus, or just the cruel devil reminding me that this is all worth something?!

In between my angered, suffocated chest and the chase of breaths that I just couldn’t seem to catch, my thoughts flew by like a wildfire that no matter how hard I tried, couldn’t be extinguished.  My husband held me tightly like he does, as we waited for the ashes to dissipate into the aftermath…

The kitchen.  The dishes.  The unfolded laundry.  The mess.   The messes.  THOSE BOXES!!

My parents house….

the contractor…

the cleaners…

the listing price… Dad…  Infertility…  The… …. … … …….{lorazepam}

But seriously- how would YOU function??

Among the tears, I remember saying something like, “Can I just die until tomorrow…” and I drifted into a deep “worry-free” sleep.  But everyday is a new day….and that was my last lorazepam, so here I woke:

The crock-pot that he couldn’t even put in the damn refrigerator.  The reminder that his laundered shirts are still at the dry cleaner.  And this morning: he. ate. my. cereal.  AND only left a swallow of milk for me…..

Those tiny sparks that are floating off of the ashes are about to catch my breath.

The sane part of me is walking around with a fire extinguisher and a phone with Trey’s number on speed dial, telling him asking him politely to take some time off of work to stay home and help me finish.  The crazy in me is screaming “SHOULDN’T THAT COME FROM HIM ANY WAY?!?!” but wait, isn’t this supposed to be my job?  

The struggle is real: is there a job description for SAHW, or would this all fall under “other duties as assigned” any way?

—

Marriage 101: COMMUNICATE.  clearly we must have been sleeping through the section that covered “moving do’s and don’ts”.

Interpersonal Relations 101: ASK FOR HELP.  clearly I have a case of OCD and do not trust others with my insane inventory spreadsheet moving system (to be future-featured in REAL SIMPLE).  

Acceptance 501: YOU HAVE ANXIETY.  JUST BREATHE.

PART TWO:

My husband and I are moving.  It’s not an easy task; packing up our first home as the subtle prompts are speaking to our emotional and nostalgic hearts reminding us that this was the place we truly became an “us.”

There’s a crib in the guest room that we really not only thought but trusted we’d be using here and a wedding dress that’s hanging in a spare closet.  It’s the home where I learned to become a wife: to submit to my husband out of love; to cherish him for all the ways that he is loving me.  When I’m having my moments; the ways that he holds me when I can’t breathe, the way he works to provide a home that I can proudly keep (mostly), he’s a good, good, man. 

Our house goes on the market in 7 days and while I’ve figured out this moving thing pretty dang well, it is my 18th time after all, I still need help.

We’ve hired contractors for things that I already know how to do, but we’re running out of time (#theregoesmypride).  There’s a giant POD that will be in our driveway in 48 hours, and then we’ll say goodbye to our possessions for at least 3 months (#firstworldproblems).  There are boxes that are waiting to be packed full of more junk.  And then I need to neatly organize each box for our friends who will be helping us load the pod (because nobody likes helping with an unorganized move).  I could easily say “something’s gotta go,” but it’s not exactly how I work.  My husband knows that so instead decides to clench the moment with:

“We’re in the home stretch, Sweetie…”

IT’S A DOUBLE HEADER!!!!  There’s another house that’s waiting to go through the same process and we only have three weeks to do it!

I want to quit.  I just want to boycott my house and home right now.  St. Thomas really was a lovely place to visit…. to continue with my procrastination, as soon as I am finished writing this, I’m going to start looking at tickets for me, myself, and I.  I’ll book my returning flight for May 26.

BUT REMEMBER, WE’RE BLESSED.  I’m an anxious mess, but we’re blessed.  My husband has agreed to take tomorrow and Friday… AND Monday off of work to help me in the “home stretch.”  #blessed.

He’ll hold me and encourage me like he always does, and we’ll get it done.  He’ll buy more milk on his way home so that I can continue packing without disruptions.  He may even pick up his own dry-cleaning so that I can focus on the small home repairs that I hate paying someone else to do.  #blessed

He’ll come home and remind me of the smiles that were taking place outside of the walls of our current home while we stood in the wall-less rooms of our future home. #blessed

He’ll remind me of the many, MANY friends and family we’ll host here… starting with my niecey-Kate and brother, Jeff.

and I’ll be distracted thinking about my brother climbing the beams of our home…

and of my Trey trying to keep up with them…

I’ll stop to take in the special moments with my parents.

We’ll remind each other of these moments in the future…and cherish every moment both easy and hard.

He’ll remind me of the laughter that breaks past the anxiety.

and then, he’ll stand next to me holding that silver lamp while I write it into my very special moving binder before placing it in the box with random pens, and leftover pocket change (that of course were also inventoried.)

He’ll shake his head with a murmured “yes, dear” when I cry “uncle” …and then I’ll drop into a tireless rest with him by my side, waking to my own voice of yearning: “wake up, kick ass, repeat.”

ps. moving is hard.

pps. life is harder.

ppps. marriage with him isn’t.

Beholding isn’t always cake but maybe just, like, a small piece of pie…and whipped cream.

I’m beholding (and rushing through this post because my husband of one year keeps reminding me that it’s our anniversary and we need to hit the road for our little trip out of town).  I’m beholding every part of God’s Truth in our lives… that whole, “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly” (John 10:10) and “You will make known to me the path of life; In Your presence, the fullness of joy; in Your right hand there are pleasures forever” (Psalm 16:9).

We watched our wedding video last night with our parents and as we seriously listened to Neil’s message (away from the nerves and distractions of “WE’RE GETTING MARRIED TODAY!!”), I was charged with this great prayer in our marriage as we put our first year behind us and walk into the many more:

The wise person- the one who builds their house upon rock; the one who hears the word of Christ and doesn’t just go to a Bible study, doesn’t just reflect on them but actually hears those Words of Christ–that’s going to be the key to your successful marriage.  To not just hear and talk about the Words of Christ but to actually live them out in practice on a daily basis.

So- it’s been a year.  We’ve beheld a lot this year, laughter, love, bad news, death, and struggles in our life neither of us would have dreamt we’d have to face.  But this remains, He’s given us a life: abundantly, joyfully, pleasurably… and that we’ve so proudly lived on a daily basis.  Through the tears and sorrow to the laughter and triumphs, I can honestly say, I think we’re doing pretty well.

FYI- he’s just come downstairs for a fifth time to tell me to come and pack so we can leave… okay, okay!!  Maybe I should just leave you with these little lessons I’ve learned.

This must be what that kind of abundance looks like… we’ve been married a WHOLE year…?  WHAT?!  That complete oneness though…

no but seriously, back in the days when it was just her and I, I never thought we’d have this kind of JOY.

I don’t think I understood this joy.

or that the steps we would be taking as husband and wife would lead us into such a clearer and better understanding of His promises of this life and the life to come.

I didn’t know that this is the kind of joy that you search for when sitting in the depths of questions and unknowns; but that you find with peace because we’re not alone.

this life of being held in the Light through the brightest of days to the darkest of days; I’ve learned his love has led me deeper into Christ’s love.

and that, that has me experiencing this abundant life in a contentment I never thought would be possible for me: an anxious, sometimes depressed, melancholy soul.

Marriage is oh so humbling– these thoughts that once were “I have to live for another person” that have so proudly changed to “I get to live for this person…” and wait a minute… he’s living for me too…

It’s some sort of awesomely blessed life– this adoration we’ve learned… that whole meaning of “cleaving” to one another.

an unspeakable joy knowing I’m his and he’s mine- quite literally.

and trusting in His plan that whatever has come and what is yet to come, has come for US to receive abundantly with joy and with pleasure bringing about such a beautiful perseverance.  So here we go- year 2.  We are ready.

ps. I have a little something for you in case you’re interested in knowing our story:

Nicole + Trey | Wedding Documentary Video from Nicole Marie on Vimeo.

photos were taken by Kayleigh Lockhart Photography, video was produced by Simon Cook Films

—

There’s this movement on facebook right now, the “Love Your Spouse Challenge.”  I’ve watched with the sweetest warm fuzzies as my friends have announced their unrelentless love for their spouses every day for 7 days by posting pictures; pictures of the now, pictures of the last week, pictures of their children, their pets, their wedding…all in effort of promoting marriage.  And then I watched with patiently, which quickly turned to anticipation, which then turned into question, and annoyance as I waited and WAITED for a friend to nominate me.

Now- I’m not one for the facebook chain “movements”/”challenges” but this one- I was pretty excited to be a part of {….and thank goodness, because Laura S. finally nominated me… Hi Laura!!}  You see, in the midst of all of that following and support of my friends’ marriages, I was redesigning this blog for it’s own revamp (separate from the photo biz revamp, more on that here).  In this newly gifted time and blessing my husband has given me, I’ve decided to jump back into blogging and really focus on this passion that fell behind broken hearts, depression, anxiety, grad school, job search, and life.  And as I was going through old posts, I realized, I’ve never really told you about my husband. {I don’t know if I was scared to write about it, or just too nervous that if I did, he would go running for the hills.  The good news though is that, we’re married now and even if he is a self-proclaimed “private person” he let’s me be… not a private person.}  What a PERFECT way to meld two worlds together and start archiving what’s going to be some of my most favorite content for a very long time.

So here I go.  Spending 7 days– probably not consecutively, let’s be realistic here-– writing about him, and who he is, and what our marriage is, and all that it hopes to become.

Love Your Spouse Challenge | Day 1

I dated some real winners, and by winners, I mean [a nicer word than loser] but that really translates to losers*.  I did.  I think my mommas especially had their own thoughts and/or word translations.  And I remember throughout all of them that my heart wrestled with and over, Jill would say, “Oh Nicole, just… you’ll know.  And it will be different, and you won’t have to wrestle like this asking all the what-if questions and analyzing communication…”  Maybe that’s what was so off when I met Trey.  I never once wrestled, because I didn’t have to.  And I never asked questions, because I didn’t have to.  And I never once analyzed his communication.  Because I didn’t have to.

After we met {that’s a story that will have you laughing wondering about my intelligence}, Trey waited exactly 14 hours before he texted me and said, “When can I see you again?”  He was committed.  He said it was love at first sight… I just think he really wanted to know if I was crazy enough to do it again… I kid… kind of.  I was taken back… scared.

And when I told him I didn’t want to date him (in a text message), he said–“Can we still hang out…?” and left out the part about his plan to continue pursuing me.  Because he was committed.

Then when I told him I was struggling in mental “un-” health and again… didn’t want to date him, he said, “Okay, I’ll wait for you to get better and just pray for you…” Because he was committed. {p.s. I have to share this because it still gives me butterflies: he would randomly check-in to tell me he was praying for me and ask when he could see me next– I didn’t have my phone at the time, but my mom and sister and Lindsay would relay the messages to me}

And that third and “final” time when we went to dinner and then a movie, I was all set to end the night saying, “this isn’t going to work…I don’t think we should ‘hang out'” but he leaned down and kissed me.  Because he was committed.

I am so thankful for his commitment to our love and our life together, and especially how he was devoted to it the moment he met me because he knew.  His commitment at the beginning of our relationship was just a preview of what kind of man he truly is.

For example his commitment to my family as my dad battles with age and cancer, and my mom with fibromyalgia; my nieces, my cousins…

and to his own family as his mom grieves the coming death of her father, and his nephews…leaving work early to be with her, or to take them to see a movie.

His commitment to sports and the Dallas Cowboys– which at times has had my support up for debate…

And of course- how could I not include his commitment to his next #1 girl…Sasha.

I never see him happier than when he is with me (and Sasha), with our families, and watching his team.

But this commitment: the inspiration for this entire post.

Commitment that is seen every morning without fail, as the alarm goes off at 4:30 a.m. to build in at least 3 snoozes so that he can make it to work early just to get home early to be with me.  That’s commitment, not just for me, but for our family and our home.  He’s committed to providing for us and to the many employees he oversees.  His work ethic is one that amazes me…even if we do lose sleep and in turn fall asleep in the movie theater DURING THE NEW BOURNE MOVIE.

But isn’t that marriage too??  We did a marriage small group with our church and one of the biggest take-aways that I learned was that marriage isn’t work, but it is effort.  Effort to get up at the butt-crack of dawn so that I can stay home and write and photography and sell skincare and prepare our home for our growing family (IN TIME)… commitment.

The most humbling lesson in our eight months of marriage (and since this is all about promoting marriage) is our devotion and commitment to live not just with one another, but for one another– leaving ourselves aside and approaching everything together for the other person.  And that’s a commitment I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world- my commitment to my husband, our marriage, and our lives together, forever and ever.

We dove into our “us.”  I think a lot of people thought that we were crazy.  Seriously, I had just gotten out of the hospital after my mental health was so far to the unhealth.  {side note: why do we refer to it as “mental health” when we all know that it really means “unhealth”… I digress.}  But we dove in.  We dove into the love word so quickly that literally minutes later I was showing him my “rings to show mr. bressler (not his dad)” pinterest board.  We dove in so deep that his parents had some conversation with him that made him cry {I can say that now, right, Babe?}.  We dove in so deep that we had the venue booked before I had the ring.  We had the house before the wedding.  We had the cohabitating before the marriage {more on that later}.  We had family disputes that in some ways still have healing relationships.  I think that’s what you call diving in…and taking the others with you.

I’ve learned in my {days away from 30} years of precious life that I have a thing for diving in… and while my husband not so much, he’s ever so supportive..and also probably ever so crazy for diving in with me because sometimes it happens to be ice cold water.  And when I do it, I do it hard, I do it fast, and I don’t look back.. I don’t need to because I am sure, and most of the time, I am confident.

I am most confident that the deepest I ever dove was when I decided not to break up with Trey a third and final time, but to let him kiss me in that chilly movie theater.  I am most confident in our home, in our family, in our faith– and so for as long as we are together (which is into eternity), he’s now diving with me.

Here’s our latest dive!

Okay- wait.  We’re not diving into Kate & Oscar (who are adorable by the way)…. look again.

She’s back.

I think by diving in– I’m living the dream.  I went back to old blogs, ones that I wrote the first time I dove into this passion of mine… one of which said that I would be a successful photo biz owner by the time I was 30.  Folks- guess where diving in has me?!

home.

This summer, I’ve been spending most of my days behind my mac editing some of the most beautiful smiles ever, beholding.  Beholding that this has been a dream for oh so, soooo long.  Being His child first and foremost, then his wife, then this writer me–other posts will be made public in time… and this “photographer.” {p.s. Trey has turned photographer too.  more on that another time.}

And yes, the people that we drag along with us maybe not entirely directly, but from afar are asking all sorts of questions:

What about your Masters degree and counseling?

What about the finances? (one of my favorites was the blunt one– do you make good money doing that?)

My absolute favorite though– will you still move back to Nebraska?

I’ve dreamt for so long of the days where I can dive in deep to taking care of my husband, of our home, and to do it all while living out my other passions of writing and art and faith and family.

So here’s what I got for the ones we drug into to water with us:

My masters degree is something that I will treasure and own for as long as I live.  The education is one that has shaped my adult way of thinking– being culturally fluent, socially just {things that make me long for a better America than the crazy picture that Trump is painting– sorry had to throw that in there.}  This degree wasn’t about “school” at all, it was about people.  And someday, when our kids are in school and we decide it’s a good time, I may pursue it again.  But right now– I pursue people, these other ways.

I’m pursuing them as I talk to them about their beautiful families, as I encourage them through a witness of their commitment to one another, I affirm those family values– and this deep diving keeps the list going.

I pursue people (pretty cool high schoolers to be exact) when we host dinner and life groups every Wednesday.  We mentor these kids with their own bold dreams and wild hearts.  We laugh with them and let them know we are here for them… (and yes, I guess then my other degree comes in handy too…)

I pursue my husband when he walks in the door and I have dinner made and on the table while wearing my apron that says “world’s greatest wife and cook” and drying my hands after doing the dishes before walking upstairs to our clean bedroom with a made bed and absolutely no clothes on the floor…. …and I kiss him and say, “don’t get mad, the dishes are still there (for almost a week now), and I forgot to make the bed… and oh yeah, I’m still in my pajamas because I didn’t shower……{blah blah blah}.”  But I’m here and I’m here for him.  Did I mention what a rockstar HE is?!

And the finances– what a blessing to be able to stay at home now, even before our kiddies come.  What a HUGE blessing to have Rodan+Fields and Beholding You Photography bringing in extra income.  But seriously, is that really your business anyway?  It’s a decision that Trey and I made, together, ALONE– diving into our trust in God’s provision.

and Nebraska– would you know it that I JUST turned down an opportunity (what would have been my dream job) to move there–after 9 YEARS, to stay here. WHAT THE WHAAAA?!?!!  I think Trey’s mom would have dropped to the floor and hung around his ankles to keep us from moving, and my mom would have packed boxes (her own boxes) to join us and start the house buying process {because it’s more fun when you are buying two}.  But after prayerful consideration and what God is doing with our lives here and now, we decided this is probably the deepest we are diving.. for now.  Someday, Mid-westies, someday.

and there you have it.  I’m the stay-at-home writer-worker wife, I’ve always dreamt of being.  and I love it….

now– what to dive into next….. {don’t worry Trey, just kidding….kind of}