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My week went all wrong.

Monday morning dawned with the extermination team knocking on my door giving me five whole minutes to grab our stuff and leave again. This time I had to be gone for 6 hours at least.

Well, I grabbed everything I needed for Charlotte and me to spend the day at Scott’s work.

I could work there. It would be an adventure. But not how I expected.

I grabbed the wrong cord for my computer. It’s old and won’t hold a charge.

I forgot a lunch or snacks for either of us.

Charlotte nose dived off a chair and bit her chin and lip. It bled a lot and she was mostly hysterical for the rest of the day.

I was exhausted. Behind on work. And the day felt way too long.

The week finished out with more interruptions, and disappearing Internet.

And the toilet flooded the bathroom. It took every towel in the house to dry it up.

But ultimately that week gone wrong was still filled with good things.

1.Time at the park with Papa for Charlotte.

2. A coworker of Scott who ” just happened” to have the same computer type as me and loaned me her cord.

3. Charlotte’s fall did no permanent damage.

4. Gorgeous fall leaves that I had time to enjoy.

5. And the bathroom floor needed to be mopped anyway.

Sometimes gratitude is all about your perspective.

Which side of today are you going to try to see?

“There’s no such thing as a perfect family.” If I’m honest,  I don’t like that sentence even a tiny bit. If I’m still honest, I’ll admit that it is true.

We’re all a little broken. Either by our choices, by our parents’ or grandparents’ choices, or sometimes just because life is broken. It’s ugly. It’s messy.

It can be hard to lift up your face and look the world in the eye and admit that you don’t have it all together. It is for me. 

But, the good thing about being broken? It is the perfect thing for finding The Source of inner strength. It’s the perfect thing for finding what true beauty really is—something that shines out in spite of the less-than-perfect way our live story often goes.

In Beauty of Broken, Elisa Morgan shares her story. And how brokenness shaped her story—and ultimately, how God used it to create a kind of beauty in her life.

I appreciated Elisa’s honesty, and the encouragement she gave to not be ashamed of our stories, even if they are broken. It could be that the brokenness that Satan meant to destroy us is the very thing that God will override and use to be one of our greatest blessings.  And that, I think, is really beautiful.

*I received this book in exchange for my honest review from Book Sneeze. The opinions are mine entirely.*

It’s been a while since it’s looked like Christmas here.

Last year we were in California. I had only just dragged in the Christmas Boxes when we got our tickets and I had to drag them back out to the shed again. The year before that I had worked a super stressful job and was too exhausted to feel much Christmas energy.

But this year…this year was different. It’s Charlotte’s first Christmas. We don’t celebrate in all the same ways that a lot of people do. But there’s something about lights and sparkling things that make winter much less dreary.  Scott loves Christmastime.  I love creating memories and looking forward to our little traditions. That’s what makes it so special.

We hauled in the Christmas boxes last Sunday and decked our little halls with lights and christmas cheer. It takes a long time to unwind the lights and hang the sparkles on the tree, even if it is small.

When the l ast the last candy cane is hung, and the last bit of garland is wrapped around the tree, THE moment of the evening arrives: we light the tree for the first time and put the gold star at the top to remind us of the Angels who sang at Jesus’ birth.

Charlotte gets to do the topper, Scott says. He took her in his arms and helped her tiny (grabby) fingers hold the gold star for a minute and then they put it on the highest little twig right at the top. She likes the sparkle and babbles in approval.

Our tree is done. It’s beautiful. And just like that, a tradition is born.

In just a few days, I’ll reach the big week forty. It’s hard to believe that nine months ago, we only dreamed of maybe a baby. And now she’s almost here…and I think we’re ready.

I think we’re ready, and we’re excited.

But I’m also a little scared. I know motherhood isn’t glamorous and I know it isn’t easy. From here, the intimidated new mama in me clings to the belief that all of this—the discomfort, the pain, and the promise of a million loads of laundry, midnight diaper blowouts, all night rocking sessions and showerless weeks—all of the hardships and sacrifices, they will be worth it.

Everywhere I turn, someone looks at my ill fitting clothing and obvious baby bump and offers up a choice bit of wisdom from their own parenthood.

None of it sounds very good.

I’ll never sleep again. For the rest of my life.

I should forget about looking cute—the baby will have destroyed my body and will spit up and wet on anything remotely attractive I own so it isn’t worth the bother to try.

Babies are only cute when they are sleeping. The rest of the time they are little monsters who only want to eat and scream and demand things.

Prepare to never have a social life and to forget about any hobbies.

The terrible twos are going to make you go crazy and you’ll beg to send your kid to daycare!

Just wait until they are teens….then you will regret the day you had kids.

The list goes on and on. It’s all about the bad, the negative and what we’re about to loose the day our little girl is born. And maybe some of it or a lot of it is true.

But new mamas already know motherhood isn’t going to be easy.

I already know that there will be late nights, sleepless nights, colic and babies who cry and cry. I know about blowout diapers at the worst moment, and spit up on my favorite dress. I know I won’t have all the time I use to for the things I may have enjoyed. I know children whine and that chances are we might not get a moment to ourselves very often anymore.

I know motherhood and parenthood are harder than anything I can imagine. And I know I can’t do it all on my own.

But as a new mama, I think what I need most is to know that in the middle of the spit up, and the night feedings, and the crying and the mess, that motherhood is beautiful, too. I think we as new mamas need to know from those who have been where we are now that motherhood isn’t just drudgery and hardship and exhaustion, but that tucked into all that reality is a bit of good too.

What we need is for someone to tell us that motherhood is filled with precious moments.

That those first few weeks are hard, but that we will make it through and it will be okay.

That baby smiles and arms that reach up for you are always worth it—even at 3 am on a week that you haven’t showered even once yet or slept for more than 10 minutes at a time.

That rocking a little one to sleep is something precious never to be taken for granted.

That those firsts giggles are the most beautiful sound in the world.

That love grows and that being a mother is something that we won’t want to trade for anything else—not even our old jobs, old lives and tiny pre baby bodies.

We need to know, more than that motherhood is hard, that it is worth it and that we can do this.

So to the friend who told me that sleep as a new mama might be limited, but it is so much better than pregnancy sleep, and the woman who said that motherhood isn’t easy but it is the best thing she ever did, to the woman who said that even post baby bodies can be beautiful and the ones who always remind us how much we are going to love being parents even when it isn’t easy—thank you. Those are the gems that we hold onto as we step through the door into new parenthood.

As we prepare for our lives to change forever, it’s those encouraging, hopeful, positive words that make us look forward to the adventure.

And that’s what new mamas need—to know that motherhood is going to be beautifully worth it all.

I can’t wait to meet our little one. I can’t wait to experience holding her for the first time. I’m still a little scared about all the what ifs and the maybes of motherhood. But I am thankful for people who tell me that we can do this and it is going to be wonderful.