The Oglesbys' Adventure

When everyone kept telling me that 25 was a big year, I don't think this was what anyone had in mind. Year 25 was the year that kept on giving. It was the year that I learned more about grief, coping, fear, hurt, healing, and grace than I bargained for. A good friend told me the week before my surgery that "We all have a year we look back on and don't know how we made it through." Year 25, I think you were that year for me. To be frank, Year 25, you KICKED. MY. ASS. If I wrote to you today and told you that I was 100% who I was when I started year 25, I would be straight up lying to myself and all of you. If I tell you I am over it all and good to go anytime soon, feel free to call me out - because I am definitely not even close. I'm making progress, but I've got a way to go. The stage of life that I'm in right now feels like I take 2 steps forward and 5 steps back.  (photo credit: Holly Ann Abel  with Bloom Like Magnolia Photography) Year 25 left me with

Sweet Baby O, Happy Due Date. Today we add another "should have been" to our list. Today should have been the day we met you, snuggled you, and saw your sweet face in person for the first time. Unless you were stubborn like me, in that case we might have had to wait a few more days or weeks to meet you. Unfortunately, God had some other plans in place. Even though we never had the chance to meet you face to face, you have taught me so much and even though these lessons were and are difficult to learn, I am so thankful that you were the one to teach me them.  You've taught me patience when I needed it most and to have grace with myself. I've learned to advocate for myself and my health - both mental and physical. You've taught me to rest. I've learned that in the seasons of hurt and heartache there is going to be joy for myself and others. And it's going to suck for lack of better terms to have grief and joy at the same time. I still am not sure how to feel

I started writing this post three days before my cancer diagnosis and it's sat here until now because healing through my miscarriage took a place on the back burner. I had a great story that I wanted to share about how grief can change your perspective on things, that small errands can turn into treacherous emotional waters, and that its no where near a linear path to healing. It went something like this. March 22, 2021: "This week I bought my first onesie since my miscarriage .  Normally I would oooh and awe over how cute those baby outfits are. I would slowly walk through the baby section imagining how cute I would style my future kiddos and thinking how I would convince Dilan we needed just onneee more outfit. I would imagine a closet full of cute outfits and a nursery decorated with all the ideas from Pinterest board. I would be filled with emotions of excitement, love, hope, all the good things. This time it was different. I didn't dwell in the baby section. I was in