How are you?
The question we all really want to hear, because when it comes down to it, it doesn't matter if we are in a dark or bright season, or just in a day wondering if we are doing it all right. We want to express ourselves & let it all out- To be heard. To have a voice.
Today, I need a voice.
Heels clicking on the concrete as I make my way to the mailbox, with a smile on my face as the cool breeze sweeps my face, and calm in my heart as I take in the fresh air. A moment to myself. I open the mailbox to a letter with a return label reads, "Jackson Memorial Hospital." I chuckle as I realize this is my hospital bill.
Do you know what it feels like to hold a piece of paper that reads, $108,807.72. A piece of paper that's worth a piece of a house. I begin cracking up as I run through my front door sharing the number with Nick. The "You Pay This Amount" reads $.00. Sigh of relief. Thank you, God for insurance.
I walk back through the front door, heading to my car. I'm still cracking up until the first tear hits my cheek. It's funny that my emotions are ahead of my brain. Great train of thought brain.
$108,807.72 for what? For a dead end? A broken heart? A blog that's purpose is to be my voice when I feel like I have none?
I wipe my tears. I have no makeup in my car to touch up so I need to keep it together. I make a few phone calls to laugh at this number. The conversations last a few minutes and I arrive at a friend's house.
I take a deep breath, check my face, and make my way to the front door.
I knock with excitement to meet her new baby. I've seen her daughter's pictures all over FaceBook, and I can't wait to hold her.
We walk through the door and catch up. I wash my hands and then.... I hold her. My heart is overwhelmed with love, joy, pain, sorrow, ......
She is six weeks.
This healthy, six weeks old catches my eyes, and it takes everything not to break into a million pieces. She's gorgeous. She whole. Her eyes are beaming, her mouth is cooing. She's six weeks.
I'm six weeks postpartum. Today is the day that I'm not considered OB anymore. I'm not pregnant anymore. I'm me.
It's been on my heart to share my journey, but I've been back and forth. Many of you didn't even know I was pregnant. Many of you probably don't even need to know I was pregnant, but I need a voice. I need to be me. I need to share.
The purpose of this blog is not to receive any sympathies, "I'm Sorries," or anything of that sort. It's more for me really, and with God's guidance, may be a larger plan that I am not able to see just yet.
I'm not quite in the encouraging stage yet, but I think there may be someone who has gone through this, may go through this, or just needs to hear this. Someone who needs a friend along this journey... of being a part of the club that no one wants to be a part of, or even someone who is not a part of the club, but knows someone who is- maybe just maybe my voice can help you. AND if not, I know my voice will help me.
I can't keep being this bottle with the corkscrewed tight. God gave us this outlet of writing, of expressing, of feeling, so that we can fulfill a purpose that's greater than any of us can imagine.
How are you?
I've been asked this many times, but only a few times with the intention of "Really, deep down, how are you?"
These "How are you's," have meant the world. Do you know how good it feels to just really answer that question? No holding back, just being me & only me.
To be raw with my emotions and to just say how I really am.
When you ask somebody that you walk up to, how are you or how is your day going- are you asking with the intent to listen and the intent to allow them to be raw with you? Or are you busy in your moment, thinking about the next thing you're going to say because you expect them to answer, "I'm great, how are you?"
Maybe we should all slow down for a moment & just listen. Everyone is going through something.
Everyone. AND maybe, just maybe they need a voice too. Maybe they need to be heard.
If you feel led to follow along with my journey, I appreciate it, but don't feel like you have to. It's here, an open book for you to read. I pray that some day I'll know the reason behind all of this, but until then, I'll just write.