As I sit in this empty room, baby girl asleep in my arms, I can't help but reminisce over our time spent here. To remember that when we got here, Wyatt couldn't dress himself or ride a bike. To remember that, really, until my third trimester, I didn't actually believe I was having a baby. To remember that once upon a time, homeschooling was all I wanted for the twins.
None of us are the same as when we showed up here. And it's a little bittersweet to say goodbye to the people we were. As a mom, it's sad to know they're growing up; and as a woman, it's sad to know I am, too.
We came here, fifteen months ago, *just* pregnant with Carly. (like, less than 4 weeks pregnant...) After two miscarriages I was terrified and that fear lead Josh and I to make the decision that we would live the year apart, me here in Washington with our family and him there, in our village in Alaska. I would carry our child to term with easy access to medical care and he would work tirelessly for our family in the bush.
Fast forward to today, I hardly recognize us. Now a family of six, we are going to own our first home, send our children to public school and we are done with our Alaska adventure. It was fun while it lasted but we are ready to settle down and live closer to family. (Okay, and to Walmart. ;)
Having Carly has taught me to give in to the moment. By that I mean she's taught me to accept what is and trust that things are happening as they should. It doesn't always feel that way in the moment, but she has shown me that God knows the way. I can walk through the dark of night, trusting that he holds the dawn.
It wasn't just the miscarriages that were hard to live through. Being apart from Josh was hard to live through. My third c-section was hard to live through. Adjusting to homeschooling post-baby (homeschool mama's, how do you do it?!?) was hard to live through. Becoming the mother of four children, all with varying needs & idiosyncrasies was hard to live through.
I came out of these challenges, though, stronger. Strangely, I feel it's a quiet strength. Like a silent resolve that twists itself into a solid rock in my stomach when I'm faced with tribulations. I don't always know how I'm going to get through it, I just know I'm going to get through it. It feels so good to have that confidence in myself.
The future is laid before us.
Tomorrow, we move.
And while I am scared, I am also excited. And I know I can trust that things are going to turn out exactly as they should.