Wake up, sista!

A girl just wants a nap. 

Brother just wants to play. 

A day in the life of older sister struggles. 

14 cents of happiness.

It's the simple things. 

Like these 14 cent hearts from the clearance aisle. 

The kiddos love them! They've been playing nicely for an hour, meaning I love them, too! 

Happy Wednesday!

Dear mom on diagnosis day: Spina Bifida.

Dear Mom on diagnosis day,

This post has been in my draft box for about a year. I write it. Rewrite it. Then delete it again. There are no words that can help you. No words can heal you; not today. But here's what my heart wants to tell you anyway:

You, sweet friend, are thought of everyday. You're in my thoughts. In my memories. And in my love. I think of you. 

I think of you when I remember this day.
I think of you when I look at my sweet son.
And I think of you when I look towards the future.

But today, more than anything, I love you. I love you beyond your wildest dreams. I love you because of the beauty that will come from you.

Today, two years ago, I was you.
The tears you are crying, they were my tears.
The confusion you feel, I felt it.
And the guilt. The guilt you hold in the depths of your heart, sweet mama, I know that guilt.

Was it something I did? Could I have done anything differently? These questions cut deep. They're ugly. 

But the truth is simple: my son is exactly who he is supposed to be - and yours will be, too.

Hearing the words: Your son has spina bifida, it's life changing.

You've heard the doctors talk a lot about folic acid. You've heard the statistics. You've been given your options.

Dear friend, now hear me. Hear the words that I hold close to my heart. 

I know the journey you are just now embarking on, and it's scary. It's hard. But mama, please know, it is so worth it. 

These are some dark days - these early days when everything you've been dreaming of seems to be turned upside down. 

But know, you are about to discover that your world, even upside down, is beautiful. 

You'll put on your research goggles. Your life maps will have to be revised. But the journey, this adventure through parenting,  is worth the effort, because that precious life inside of you will amaze you every step of the way. 

As my 19 month old tugs on my pants leg, signing for milk and asking for cuddles from his wheelchair, I think of you. I think of how scared you must be of wheelchairs - because that was me. 

They're unknown. They come with a stigma. 

But what if I tell you, they come with discovery, and learning, and fun? What if I tell you, they are a conversation starter, a friendship maker, a 'cool factor' on the playground? 

Our son has learned more, progressed more, laughed more in the past few months since he learned to operate his wheelchair. He is happy. He plays. He is a normal little boy who happens to have spina bifida. 

Words can't help you today, but one thing I want you to remember. When the the clouds start to dissipate and the sun starts to shine again, remember these words. 

Life doesn't end with spina bifida, a new one is just beginning. 

A hard. Crazy. Emotional. Beautiful. Loving. Unique. Worth it. Life. 

It's yours to enjoy. So enjoy it, because our kids, just like any others, are incredible. 

I love you, dear friend. 

-Casie

Two years ago.

Today hasn't been special.

At least to anyone looking from the outside in.

Today has been one of the mundane, get the housework done, donate a few things here, throw away a few things there.

Lunch from leftovers.

Naps for the kids.

A little whining. A little laughing. A whole lot of contentment. 

Like I said, nothing special.

Except today. Today is life changing for us.

Two years ago, which is hard for me to truly believe, was a fundamentally life changing day for, with prayers and thankfulness, our now family of four.

You see, two years ago, we found out first hand how incredibly fragile life is. We found out that even when you take every precaution in the world, do all of the research, and pray for healthy, some things are just out of our hands.

Two years ago, we were told we were having a son - and he would not live.

There are no flowery words to describe it. No dressing it up or wrapping it in pretty packaging.

It was excruciating. It was terrifying. It was all consuming to the point that breathing literally hurt. 

In midst of the storm, it was ugly. 

But how beautiful the aftermath is. 

Today, there have been things that weren't there on this day two years ago.

There have been laughs!

There has been joy.

There has been sibling love and playfulness.

Today, we are thankful that hugs can help our tears and that kisses can cure our hurt. 

This day two years ago changed our perspective. Our perspective on many things, but mainly our perspective on joy.  

Although the memories are still vivid and the pain can still be felt - we find beauty in them because we know how much joy we could have missed. 

Tonight, in honor of Elam, we celebrated with our favorite local pizza and a scoop of ice cream from the fudge shop downtown. As the sun was setting and Elam was pointing out every bird that flew near, I felt peace. 

Peace, perfect, whole. 

This is where I'm supposed be. This is what I'm supposed to be doing. 

This.

 Elam's mom. Ellery's mom. Justin's wife. 

Oh the joy that we would have missed. 

We are thankful for the hard days because it is only through them that we find unmistakable joy 

Another year has gone.

Dear 2014,

Thank you for such a beautiful journey. 

As this year comes to a close, we look back and smile. We smile, not because it wasn't hard, not because we never became discontent, but because we have seen our lives transformed into ones of hope and love and joy in the small things. 

Our year was full of learning opportunities. We learned to adjust to the unexpected. We've learned to look past the dreariness of an overcast sky and see beauty in the wholeness. And we have learned that our call to love extends past ourselves and our family. 

From start to finish, 2014 was a bumpy road. We have seen our share of disappointments. We have found ourselves throwing pity parties and eating a pint of ice cream while wearing sweat pants (okay, maybe that one was just me). But from this side of the struggle, I can see how the pain changes our outlook, humbles our hearts, and teaches us to look beyond our current situation to see that blessings are not always wrapped up in pretty packaging. 

However, please do not think I mean blessings are always messy or that ours have all been that way. I do not believe that for a minute. This has been a beautiful year of perfectly timed friendships, wonderful new beginnings,  and countless answered prayers for wisdom when nothing else would do. 

2014's beauty didn't come from monetary value, it came from quiet humblings of our hearts - lessons on love and purposefully choosing to see the good. 

Life with a three year old keeps us on our toes. Life with our 18 month old keeps us grateful. And life with each other just keeps us happy. 

Here's to 2015! It's a new year!