Gratitude and the Ripple Effect of Compassion

I have spent the last week trying to process an event which holds within it so many different layers of tragedy that it is truly hard to fathom. I have been spilling over with thoughts and emotions, and finally decided to write them down.

A young woman I had the pleasure of knowing, though not very well, was killed last Friday when the small plane she was on with her fiancé, his dad, and his brother, crashed into I-285 in Atlanta. Miraculously, nobody on the highway was killed, but all four people on the plane died. They were heading to her fiancé's little brother’s graduation from their alma mater, Ole Miss. What promised to be a fun filled weekend celebrating and reliving college memories turned into a loss the likes of which these families have likely never known.

I had the pleasure of participating in the Komen 3 Day Walk with Jackie, the young woman who died, in 2011. I have run into her here and there since then, but most of my memories of her come from that weekend when our team got to know one another very well rather quickly. (When you’re comparing the sizes of the blisters on your feet and embracing through tears at the memory of loved ones lost, you tend to bond pretty fast.) What I know of her is that she was a young woman full of life whose loyalty to her friends was fierce, whose drive was impressive, whose faith was strong, who was a whole lot of fun to be around, and who is gone way, way too soon.

It’s hard to contemplate a death without relating it to your life. Jackie and her soon to be husband planned to wed in October. They had just purchased their first home a few miles down the road from mine. They had recently gotten a golden doodle puppy. They were young and looking forward to the rest of their lives. They were, essentially, in the exact same place that Bryan and I were in a few short years ago. Thinking about her death makes me think of how lucky I am and how thankful I am to have made it to my 29^th birthday. While I am still so young, I’ve gotten to experience the wedding of my dreams and know the love of a kind husband who I adore. I have gotten to have a home of my own with a precious dog we love and to plant flowers in my own front yard. I have gotten to see the word “Pregnant” on a test, to excitedly share the news with my husband, and to feel my son’s first kicks deep inside of me. How lucky I am to have lived these past few years! It’s a normal part of processing a loss to feel overwhelmingly thankful, I think. After all- you’re still here. The question, then, becomes- now how are you going to live this life you have?

I was getting ready to attend Jackie’s funeral this morning, and was struck by something. I had planned to attend firstly, to honor Jackie, though I was not a close friend of hers and knew her primarily through our wonderful 3 Day weekend together and through our mutual close family friends, the Martins. I am a firm believer that when in doubt, you just show up.

Side note: Too often people worry whether it’s appropriate to attend a funeral, to place a call to someone when they’re thinking of them, or to speak to a stranger that they think looks like he or she may be having a particularly hard day. But, you know what? If that was me sitting in the front row mourning the loss of my daughter or sister, I would want to look out and see as many faces as I could. I would want all of the people to come and to honor my loved one, no matter how close they were them. Showing up is our way of saying, I knew them, I will remember them, they touched me in some way, and their life mattered.  It’s so important to stop asking questions and just show up.

My second reason for attending the funeral was to be there for our family friends, the Martins, the eldest of whom is one of my dearest friends and loved Jackie like a sister. Her younger sister was her best friend, and their entire family considered her to be one of their own. This has been a huge loss for them, and it was important to show up to support them. However, as I got ready this morning, I was struck by the calls and texts I received from my friends and family telling me that they would be thinking of and praying for ME. Me- someone who was certainly touched by Jackie in the brief time we knew one another, but who wouldn’t be feeling this loss on the same level that so many others there today would be for the days and months to come. They understood that today would still be a hard day, even for me, and that to sit in church and sing those familiar songs of prayer and hear the words that would attempt to put perspective on this whole ordeal would be overwhelming and deeply touching.

So here I am, trying to show up to support my friends, and these other people in my life are going out of their way to show up for me and to let me know that they love me. It got me thinking about the impact that something like this has. If you take the time to process that every person in the church today was showing up for Jackie and for one another, and that others at home were thinking of and praying for those in attendance, just imagine the sheer number of prayers and thoughts that went up this morning- ultimately because of this one life. It really is breath taking when you pause to think of it. It’s like an enormous web, reaching across long distances to cover and protect everyone there.

Monsignor Lopez, a beloved and pretty much famous priest (at least to anyone who attended St. Pius Catholic High School), gave the homily (which is a Catholic word for sermon for my Protestant peeps) today. To say he is an incredible speaker would be an understatement. He speaks with conviction, with compassion, and with so much confidence that you don’t even consider stopping to doubt anything he says. He did a beautiful job of acknowledging the tragedy of this loss- of these four losses. He said that the people gathered today were expecting a wedding, and what they got was a funeral. Can there be anything that will knock the wind out of you quite like that? The biggest take away from his words, though, was that amidst this tragedy- amidst any tragedy with which we are faced- we cannot allow ourselves to stop trusting our God or to stop praying. He reminded us that our God is one who literally came down to Earth to intentionally suffer agony and death so that He could be united with us in our pain and so that He could offer us eternal peace if we would just trust in His love and come to Him on our knees when we are broken. When He says He is with us, He means it because He has been there. He has felt the fear, experienced the pain, and conquered it. And when you stop to think of the goodness of people- of the web of compassion which covered those in mourning today- how could we not believe? When people choose to love one another so well, to come out of the woodwork and fly to another city to be there for one another, and to call and text their “I love you”s from near and far- how can we not trust that our God is with us? We are called to be the hands of Christ to one another, and experiencing a day like today makes you feel just how that works in the world.

I am so thankful to have gotten the chance to know Jackie, and to have been a part of the web that covered her people today. My prayers is that her family and friends felt it too.

 

 

William Michael Hill

April 18, 2015

Easter morning, Bryan and I were driving to Roanoke, Alabama to visit his dad’s side of the family. While driving, Bryan mentioned that it would be a good time to discuss baby names because we had almost two hours to kill. We had already spoken about the name William Michael many times, and both really loved it, but we were worried because it almost came too easily! For some strange reason, we felt compelled to do more research and gnashing of teeth before determining the PERFECT name for our firstborn son. So, I googled several lists of baby names and read them aloud. While there were some we liked, nothing felt as right to us as William Michael. After a short while, I asked Bryan why we were fighting this when clearly this was a name full of meaning for both of us, and we both loved it. He concurred that he really wasn’t sure, and with that, our decision was made.

Our little man’s full name will be William Michael Hill, and we will call him Liam for short. We LOVE this name. William is a huge family name for Bryan on both his mom’s and his dad’s side. His father, who goes by Dusty, is William Thomas Hill III, and is named after his father (Tommy) who is named after his father (Bill) before that! So, there’s a long line of Williams on the Hill side that we want to honor by naming our son after them. Bryan’s grandfather on his Mom’s side is named William as well, and he goes by Bill. His uncle is also named William, and goes by Billy, and he has a cousin named Will on this side as well. Bryan really admires all of these great Williams in his family, and loves spending time with them. Each has a special place in his heart, and in mine as well as they have grown to become my family too over the years. Naming our son in their honor just fits perfectly. Plus, we love that by calling him Liam, he’ll have his own unique identity while sharing the tradition of the name William.

Being a Callahan of Irish descent, there are a whole lot of Michaels in my family! First and foremost, my dad is a Michael, and is the original man who had my whole heart until Bryan came along. My grandfather and his father before that were also Michaels- though my great grandfather changed his name from George Michael Callahan to George Washington Callahan when he came to the states so he sounded more American…. yea, we laugh about it too. My brother is Michael Patrick Callahan, though he goes by Patrick, and my brother in law is actually William Michael Baisley! We placed a special call to him on our car ride Easter morning to officially ask to steal his name! Thankfully he agreed since they don’t plan to pass his full name on to the baby they’re expecting (if it’s a boy). I always knew that I wanted Michael to be part of my first son’s name in honor of the special Michaels in my life, and I am so grateful that that dream is now our reality.

Bryan and I are very blessed to have so many special men in our lives who have sacrificed a lot to love and support us and get us where we are today, and it feels wonderful to have the opportunity to share their legacy with the next generation.

The name William means “warrior” while Michael means “humble”, so we love the idea that his name means “humble warrior”. Michael literally means “Who is like God?” which translates to humble, and I just love that! What an important lesson to have imbedded in your name- a reminder of how humble we are in comparison to our heavenly Father. There’s great meaning in all aspects of this name, for sure.

It also feels really great to be able to call Liam by name! Bryan walks in the door from work, hugs me, and pats my belly, saying “Hey Liam!” He rolls over in the morning to give him a good morning pat too. I, of course, talk to him throughout the day, and according to our app that explains weekly progress, he is actually able to start recognizing my voice now, so I am sure I’ll continue to talk to him and sing to him as we go on.

We hope Liam likes the name we have chosen for him, and that he will come to know and appreciate what a long line of great men from which he comes.

It's a boy!

April 9, 2015

Tuesday, March 31^st 2015 was the day we found out that our first child would be a son. We had blood work done at our first trimester screening which would identify a number of genetic conditions like Down’s Syndrome if any existed, and would also detect the baby’s DNA within my bloodstream. It’s a relatively new test, based on my understanding, so folks have the option of finding out way earlier than before if they’re having a boy or a girl. If you know me, you know that I am the least patient person alive, and I wanted to know as soon as possible. Bryan said he could wait to find out via ultrasound, but thankfully, he appeased his wife and we opted to do the test.

The results were to come in 7 to 10 business days from when they sent the blood work, so we were surprised when we got the call Monday, March 30^th (the anniversary of when we had started dating 8 years earlier) that the results were ready and waiting at Northside! Rather than try to pull together a bigger gender reveal get together with family and friends, we opted to just gather our parents for dinner to find out the news. This was partly to keep it low key and stress free, and partly because I didn’t want to have to wait very long once we had the results in our possession to find out!

Mom and I picked up the envelope that Monday, and by some miracle, I was well behaved and didn’t sneak a peek before I was supposed to. Tuesday, I asked our across the street neighbor to take the envelope, a box, and two pairs of shoes- one blue, and one pink- and to place the correct shoes in the box for us. She was so sweet to help us, and her two kids even got in on the action and made their guesses about what we were having. She dropped the box off on our front porch, and we were locked and loaded- ready to find out that night!

 

My parents and Bryan’s folks all met up wit us at Old Blind Dog, a local Irish pub we love, to find out the gender and have a celebratory dinner. I was CONVINCED it was a girl based on a couple of dreams I’d had, and I think Bryan thought it was a girl too simply because I was so convinced. Once everyone arrived, we explained how we had set it up and that whichever color shoes were in the box would be what we were having.

FINALLY the big moment arrived, and we opened the little box to find two tiny blue shoes.

 

 

We were shocked and thrilled, and I immediately started crying. It was such a joyful moment. Though I had been convinced it was a girl, I honestly didn’t care one way or the other what we would be having. But knowing that we would have a son was just magical. My mind instantly went to visions of soft blue baby clothes, to Bryan playing in the yard with our boy, to the smell of dirt at the ball games we would attend. There is such a special magic in little boys as they navigate this world and learn to become young men. What a gift from God and what an incredible responsibility we would have in raising him. I get a lump in my throat thinking about it.

Everyone there to share in the moment- my mom and dad, Bryan’s dad and stepmom Donna, and his mom and stepdad Steve- was just thrilled as well. It was neat to be able to share the excitement with them and have all of us find out together. I loved looking around the room and seeing everyone’s face. My mom was just thrilled in general and excited the wait was over. I could tell that knowing it was a boy made the reality sink in just a little bit more for my dad that his baby girl is going to be a mom. Bryan’s mom was crying and so excited for her first grandson and all the special things that would entail. Steve started talking about finding a train set he’d been looking for, which is precious as he will be the resident expert on all things that go for our son given that he’s a technological genius. Donna was so sweet and videoed the whole thing, capturing all the reactions and, I know, so excited to have another grandson on the way. Bryan’s dad’s reaction may have been my favorite though. There were not a lot of words spoken, but there were definitely some tears held back as it sunk in that his son was having a son and that the next generation of Hill men was on its way. There is something really special about that, and it made me all the more glad we decided to share this moment with all of our parents.

After lots of tears and talk about our little guy on the way, everyone headed home- not before the parents gave us gifts they already had waiting! Bryan and I went and sat in the car and just soaked it all in for a little while. I turned on one of our favorites- “Danny’s Song” and we sat there and smiled at each other and cried a little bit. We had listened to this song a lot when we first moved into our house and started life together because everything was so new and fresh and wonderful and the song somehow seemed to capture that. It’s been on the kitchen dancing playlist ever since. But, after hearing our news, it took on a whole new meaning. I hope every time we hear that song we remember the joy of that moment and how lucky we are to get to be parents to this child. I can hardly wait to meet him.

People smile and tell me I'm the lucky one, and we've just begun,
Think I'm gonna have a son.
He will be like she and me, as free as a dove, conceived in love,
Sun is gonna shine above.

And even though we ain't got money, I'm so in love with ya honey,
And everything will bring a chain of love.
And in the morning when I rise, you bring a tear of joy to my eyes,
And tell me everything is gonna be alright.

Nipplegate

I am writing this post in hindsight, with a good night’s sleep, and the nausea behind me in an effort to get real and be honest about the crazy that can come with pregnancy.

Being pregnant is awesome and terrifying at the same time. It’s a crazy juxtaposition of being thankful to finally have this thing you have wanted since you were little and have prayed for over the course of many years, and then feeling like a psycho person, experiencing emotions you have never felt and pain you didn’t know existed. It’s like you are thrilled this baby is coming, but this pregnancy thing you just want to give back or pass on to your husband to do.

Thus, I give you the story Bryan and I laughingly refer to now as Nipplegate. It was around 8 weeks into the pregnancy. Hormones were unpredictable, inconsistent, and just rude in general.  I would feel fine one hour and depressed or angry or weepy the next.  After a long and exhausting day, accompanied by hours of nausea (which NEVER hit in the morning for me, but rather at some point between 3:00 and 5:00 in the afternoon, and would last until I fell asleep that night), I was finally crawling into bed for the night. I had gotten into the habit of wearing a sports bra to bed because my breasts were so swollen and tender that not having some kind of support was way worse than the annoyance of sleeping in a bra. As I was tucking myself into the covers, my hand grazed my chest, and I let out a small “Ahh”, signifying that something had caught me off guard. Bryan innocently asked, “What’s wrong?” and I said, “Something is stuck in my bra”. Reaching in to retrieve said object, I immediately began WEEPING. Y’all- ugly cry, face in hands, full on weeping.

My poor husband. He yells, “What is it?! What’s wrong?!” And slowly, I yelled through tears, “It’s my niiipplleeee!!! Waaah.”

This was a new low.

The weird thing which felt so foreign to me was, in fact, just my boob, scaring the buh-Jesus out of me. I was so swollen that I didn’t even recognize my own body. Poor Bryan just sat there and rubbed my back, probably trying not to laugh while at the same time likely TERRIFIED of whoever this person was who had taken over his wife. He tried his best to comfort me and grappled for the right words because, oh my gosh, how do you respond to that?

I tried to regain my composure and explained to Bryan that this moment had been like a light bulb going off for me. While I can laugh about it now, this was the instant that it hit me like a ton of bricks- this baby train is going, Mama, whether you like it or not. We are used to having relative control over our bodies. There is a cause and effect, natural rhythm to how we feel. Bloated? Eat less salt. Dehydrated? Drink more water. Headache in the morning? Drink less wine the night before, fool.

But this- this was something foreign and new. My body was changing before my eyes. I was feeling bloated, had sore and huge breasts, and had an aching tailbone from where my body was shifting to prepare for this growing baby. All of this was happening within my own skin, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I was completely, 100% overwhelmed by it all.

I don’t say any of this to complain about this pregnancy or to discourage anyone from becoming pregnant. I’ve just been asked by so many people to tell them “the real version” of what this is like, and I want to be honest about the reality of this process. I hope to help others to know what it is like, and I want to remember these details one day when Nipplegate is a distant memory.

There is a happy ending to this story because, you know what? It all worked out fine. I stopped crying, got a good night’s sleep, and things were okay again the next day. There will be moments during pregnancy where you feel completely overwhelmed and very isolated. You’re the only one carrying this baby and you’re sacrificing your sense of normalcy and control to bring this human being into the world. You will just have to take a couple of deep breaths, do the next right thing, and keep on trucking. Seeing this baby’s fingers for the first time and watching it kick on the ultrasound this week made all of this insanity worth it.

We Saw You This Week

February 8, 2015

Dear Baby,

We got to see you for the first time this week. We went in for our first ultrasound at a couple days shy of 6 weeks, and we saw you- our little black dot nestled into a sea of gray. You are the coolest thing we have ever laid eyes on.

You are the size of a sweet pea right now, which surprisingly seems big to me given that you were just a poppy seed a couple of weeks ago! Next week you’ll be a blueberry, and the week after a raspberry! And then, before we know it, you’ll be graduating from high school, I’m sure.

It was the neatest thing getting to see you on that screen. It helped me to make the connection that you are really there, growing every day inside my body. It’s been difficult to really believe this is happening because other than being really tired and really all over the place emotionally, I feel pretty normal. (Also being tired and all over the place emotionally isn’t particularly out of the ordinary for me…) Seeing you made us take a small step toward understanding the reality of this blessing. This miracle.

I go in for more (!) blood to be drawn tomorrow to make sure that you’re growing at a good pace, and in a couple short weeks, we will go back to see your tiny heartbeat. By then you will have little arms and legs, which seems remarkable to me given that you look a lot like a shrimp today based on my Google searches. I am crazy nervous and also so excited and hopeful that we will see your tiny heart beating away when that appointment comes.

Right now I feel like you are a girl and I wonder so much what you actually are. I could not care less if you are a boy or a girl- I am just so proud that you are ours. I am constantly thinking of all the things I can’t wait to teach you. Your daddy is making me us pancakes right now on a Sunday morning before church. He will certainly teach you how to make the perfect scrambled eggs and bacon, which superheroes belong to Marvel and which belong to that other one, how to be respectful and loving, and all about movies and trivia. Mostly you will learn from him about integrity and character and loyalty. He is an expert in those fields.

I hope I will teach you, above all else, about kindness. Beyond anything else you can be- smart, athletic, funny, whatever- if I can teach you to be kind then I will have done my job. This will be a tall task for someone with the patience of a puppy, but I am going to try very hard. I also have a feeling that you will teach me a thing or two about how to be more patient. I cannot wait for the adventures we will have.

Time for pancakes. I hope you enjoy them and that they make your little arms and legs sprout.

I love you, Sweet Pea.

Momma

I'm Gonna Make This Place Your Home

January 30, 2015

For over 6 months now I have been working on getting into shape by taking an early morning class three mornings a week. It’s comprised of high intensity interval training (HIIT) with running interspersed, and I have also been getting in some runs on days when I don’t have class. The first day of class I thought I was going to DIE. I have never really enjoyed running and when I was trying to keep up with the other folks in the class just to finish the quarter mile run, I was feeling incredibly down on myself. I felt very much like getting into my car and driving home and hoping to God I didn’t run into these people at the grocery store after having darted away with my tail between my legs.

But- I stayed, and kept coming back. Long story short- over the course of several months, I got to where I was able to run four miles without stopping, which is something I had never been able to do. It might not seem far to some, but for this non-runner, that was a big day. I ended up losing about 15 pounds, but more importantly, I have come to feel stronger, more confident, and more comfortable in my own skin.

My main motivation for joining this class was to get healthy and prepare my body to carry a baby. I was uncomfortable in my own skin after a lazy first year of marriage where I had not been exercising, and I knew that 2015 was the year we hoped to start a family. My awesome trainer, Heather, spoke at a Women’s Circle meeting at my church and said that nothing fitness related would really click for you until you found your “why”. I knew right away that my “why” was starting a family. I needed to start down a healthier path to prepare my body and to prove to myself that I could do something like this before having babies, so that I would know I was capable of it afterward. I felt that it would help me get back to it once baby is here (and my hope is that it will!) because I will have already done it before.

Being pregnant and having a child would often cross my mind on runs. It would help me stay motivated to reach the top of a tough hill, or it would give me a boost of energy to pick up my pace. Knowing this body would (God willing) become a vessel to carry such a precious, fragile gift encouraged me to strengthen it.

One song in particular motivated me like no other on my running playlist. “Home” by Phillip Phillips not only has a great beat for running, but it was full of meaning to me during this particular time of anticipation, preparation, and hope. The first time it clicked to me that this would be by anthem for getting myself into better shape I was mid-run and I swear, I started crying as I jogged along. It was like I was singing to this not yet born, not yet even conceived, little baby. I felt like I was loving it already, and preparing my body to be its home for the duration of its time in my womb.

Hold on, to me as we go
As we roll down this unfamiliar road
And although this wave is stringing us along
Just know you're not alone
Cause I'm going to make this place your home.

It came on today while I was on a run with Sawyer over my lunch hour, and it was the first time I had heard it since finding out we are pregnant. Now, that… that was a full circle moment. I am not in perfect shape, and I have no idea what my body will go through in the next 8 months and 3 weeks- though I will continue with the classes and modify where needed as long as I can. It’s pretty terrifying, and I’m sure it won’t be pretty. But I feel good knowing that I have, at least, taken the steps to get myself into better shape, which I hope will serve the babe and me well on this adventure. And I am hopeful that this will have given me a needed confidence boost to get back at it once the baby is here so that I can model healthy behavior for this kiddo and any who come after.

Sitting here writing this all I can think about is how good God is. I can see now that all of the miles I put in and the 5:00 AM alarms were preparing me- mentally and physically- for this moment. Hours spent on walks and runs reflecting on the possibility of and the hope for this child were slowly but surely moving my body- and more importantly my heart- where it needed to be.

Baby Hill graduated today from poppy seed to apple seed. Next week he or she will be the size of a sweet pea, which sounds HUGE right now (which I am sure we will laugh at later!) I am already so proud of him or her, working away in my belly to grow and grow. I hope Baby Hill likes his/her new home.

Initial Thoughts

January 26, 2015

I cannot believe I am going to be a Mom. That really, I already am- and Bryan is a dad. Today Baby Hill is the size of a poppy seed. By the end of the week, he or she will be the size of an apple seed- which is a pretty big week for the little one, if you think about it! I am trying to let this all sink in and let the reality of the situation fall over me, because truthfully, I don’t feel very different yet. Other than being much more sleepy than usual, I feel normal. I know the morning sickness doesn’t hit until about week 6 (thanks Google), so it should hit around the time we go to San Francisco for my friend Michele’s wedding. Baby Hill will most definitely cramp my style during our day visiting vineyards in Napa, though the upside is that we’ll save hundreds on a wine tour since we have a designated driver now!

At this point we’ve told only our parents, but I am already dying to share the news with everyone. I swear I almost told about 4 people at Publix the day I found out. This poor mama was trying to find something on an aisle as her two daughters- probably 2 and 4- screamed to her from the cart about an item they wanted. She looked at me as I passed and sighed, giving me an expression that said “I’m sorry my kids are screaming and that you’re hearing it and I’m just trying so hard!” I smiled and said “Don’t worry, you’re good!” What I wanted to say was “Don’t worry, you’re good! I am 5 minutes pregnant and I am so excited and I can’t stop smiling and their fussing sounds like music to me right now!” (I am sure I will look back and laugh at the notion of that sounding like music when it’s my own screaming kids in the buggie, but for now, I will revel in it.) Thankfully I showed some restraint, and kept my stream of consciousness rant to myself.

I have only known now for three days, and already I feel like it has been an eternity. Not being able to tell friends and family is SO hard! We had two parties to attend this weekend and I had to keep my mouth shut. I also had to say no to the vino, so likely, everyone already 100% knows- but what can you do?

Then there is the worry. More women I know than not have had a miscarriage, and I am trying to balance not getting overly excited about this baby until 12 weeks with being positive because at this point, there is only a reason to be joyful. I guess worrying about your child starts from day one.

For right now, I am trying to choose to live in joy about this news, because this baby is already a gift from God and a blessing to Bryan and me. I have been Googling sizes and development stages constantly, and it’s so crazy to see a visual of what the baby looks like now versus what he or she will look like in just two more weeks! It will go from being the size of a poppy seed to a little shrimp looking thing by week 6, and by week 8, it will have little arms and hands! It’s just truly miraculous to me.

As time drips by until we hit week 12- and of course, after that too- I will continue to pray. Pray for this baby to grow and develop and thrive. Pray for Bryan and me to draw closer to God and to one another as we navigate these life changing, relationship changing waters for the first time. Pray that I will be a good mom.

This already feels like this biggest thing I have ever done and he or she is still just a poppy seed! I can’t imagine how I will feel when we get to watermelon!