when you lose your place in your own story

Oh hey. Yeah, so it’s been 1 year+ since I’ve written in this little corner of the internet. Sometimes you just lose your place in a story, you know?

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When I became a mother 4.5 years ago, my life sped up immensely. And when Gracie joined us two years ago, I swear we entered warp speed.

You know what else happened when I became a mom? My heart broke open. When we discovered our infertility problems, I thought my heart broke. But then we had Luke, and that tiny little baby just split my heart open in the best way possible, and suddenly all the good and bad and joy and sorrow flowed through my heart in much deeper ways than it ever had before. And again, when Gracie joined us, the intensity of life itself became that much stronger.

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So somewhere in the midst of feeling all the things at warp speed, life got a little foggy. This blog has never been a completely accurate gauge for what’s going on in my life, but it was a glimpse of my journey and the things that I was processing along the way. These past couple years it’s been fuzzy – my internal dialogue (the source of these blog posts) became distant and disjointed and nonexistent at times. I felt swallowed up by the huge feelings and the constant go.go.go of two little kids and I was hanging on furiously so that I wouldn’t miss anything.

It bothered me, this feeling lost in my own story. I still found immense joy in my family and life – but it was just a little different. I couldn’t articulate all the little gifts and challenges that make life amazing, and I missed that inner processing. It took me awhile to put together the pieces, and I feel like I’ve found my place again.

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That season will always be a little bit mysterious to me, but I know that God was faithful in carrying me through it. Did a few years of interrupted sleep play a role? Probably. (My sweet Gracie Kate is just starting to sleep through the night at 2; at 4.5, Luke still wakes nightly). I really thrive on being their mama – even being up in the night with them is something that I often tuck away in my heart because this is such a fleeting time, and I treasure it – but sometimes I forget that it does take a toll on my body.

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I love the adventure of keeping up with a newborn turned infant turned toddler – it’s amazing to reflect on all.the.growth Gracie has had over the span of just two years! But it takes energy to keep up with all that. And Luke is growing up so quickly too – the past few years have also been riddled with ups and downs as we’ve tried to better understand some of the challenges he has. I know a lot of my thoughts and energy have been spent there, too.

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Even more, I feel like this season in life is just heavy with joys and sorrows, much more than other times in my life. So much has happened in the lives of those that are close to me, and I’ve felt it deeply. It almost knocks me over when I think of all the babies born, successes achieved, clear cancer scans, adventures that have happened, health restored and the sheer goodness of God evidently displayed in the lives around me. And in the same breath I try to take in the pain of infertility, all the babies that we never got to meet, the cancer updates that are not what was hoped for, the hospital stays for kids that are too young to belong in such a place, the loneliness, the pain, and the suffering that we don’t understand.

and if you travel here
you will feel it all
the brightest and the darkest
and if you travel here
listen to your heart
take with you what lasts forever
-Future of Forestry

For awhile, my reaction to feeling all.the.things was panic and confusion. I didn’t know how to let them be in my heart, especially when they had to share space with the unbelievable joy that I felt in being a mama to two beautiful kids. This ISTJ just isn’t keen on feeling all the emotions. Instead of letting myself experience these mixed emotions and process through things, too often I’d just replay Gracie’s birth in my head or hustle the kids off to a park where I could zone out in the sunshine. Not the best coping mechanisms, and largely unhelpful.

The more you see the less you know
The less you find out as you go
I knew much more then than I do now
-U2

Yet somehow, over time, I have regained my footing and my heart and head feel much more clear. Somehow I’ve found my place in my story again, and it is just as rich and complicated as I remembered and hoped it would be. Praise the Lord for his many mercies: for steadfast husbands, fabulous kiddos, amazing family and friends, skilled counselors and naturopaths, and the gentle hand of a God that cares intimately for each of us.

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I’m not promising that I’ll be blogging daily – or even regularly – but I’m excited to come leave some words or photos here when I am able. I have missed this blog so much – particularly being able to come back and look at what has happened in the past. I love having glimpses into different seasons of my life, and this season is a full, rich one.

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So welcome back to this window into our little life; sorry for this heavy intro, but I felt like I wanted to leave some explanation instead of just jumping in with random posts. And I wanted to be true to myself in these words, so that I could revisit them in the future and remember all that I sorted through in my heart.

Our hearts are heavy and light.
We laugh and scream and sing.
-Jamie Tworkowski

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5 thoughts on “when you lose your place in your own story

  1. Sara- So glad to see your post pop up in my feed today! [Except– cancer? Yipes. Don’t know anything about that in your lives?] Those early years are hard and I fully get what it’s like to be getting no sleep. (Isaac…. then Audra were much the same… it took them years to settle in to a good sleep rhythm. And we all breathed a huge sigh of relief when it was over. And now I miss it. ;))
    Blessings to you as you continue to process it all– all the joys and all the sorrows, and trust in a faithful God to see you through each season.
    ~Stacy

  2. Sara, you put it so well calling this season a season of fogginess. I feel like my fog is thicker than ever, but it is so encouraging to hear that the fog does clear and I may find my own thoughts again one day. Blessings on you and your beautiful family!

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