People love telling stories about themselves, especially when it comes to things that make them nervous.  Don’t believe me? How many times have you heard someone tell you a story about the time they got their wisdom teeth pulled, or a job interview that went terribly wrong, or all of the things that fell through at their wedding?


People love to fill your head with all of the things that went wrong… or all the things that could have gone wrong (as if my imagination doesn’t do a good enough job of filling in those blanks).


But nothing… NOTHING beats the stories I’m being told now.

At 23 weeks pregnant, and with a belly that enters the room just a split second before my nose, I am declaring to everyone I see that I am embarking on a new journey: and people love to talk about it.

Stories from my mom and other women in my life that I admire have been encouraging, empowering and helpful… but there have been some stories (like the ones I hear at work or from random people at the grocery store) that have been downright terrifying.

I don’t know much about the final trimester of pregnancy or what birth is like, but these things I know:

Worry does not help.

There is no fear in love.

God is my strength.


Today, I am thankful for a strong group of cheerleaders, a loving husband, and a God who cares more for Charlie than I do (which is hard to imagine). I’m thankful that I have nothing to fear and that I can trust God to carry me through these next 4 months… whatever that looks like.




In case you were wondering: Charlie is growing like a weed.  He weighs an estimated 1 pound already (wowser!) He practices karate moves all day now, and he’s kicking hard enough to be visible from the outside.  I’ve started an art project for his room that I’m super excited about, and I get to see him again via ultrasound in a little over a week. (I can not wait to see his little face again)

Oh, and I’m feeling fantastic, and I have had no cravings yet.