To Be Brave

Just two weeks ago, I posted how my pregnancy was going better than expected. Well, the pain has finally caught up with me and I am trying to be brave. My grandpa's last words to me keep echoing in my head - he told me that I was a brave woman, not afraid of doing hard things. Despite his words, I haven't felt very brave lately. There are times in our lives when time seems to crawl or sometimes stop completely. I only have two months left in my pregnancy, but during each sleepless night, two months feels more like two years.

I am not writing this post for sympathy or to complain, but to share. So often we blog about all of the positives in our lives - the soccer wins, the birthday parties, the school achievements, even the Sunday walks. There are so many positives to focus on and to share. Some people say that blogs aren't a fair representation because they paint everyone as having a happy (and only happy) life. I disagree. It's not meant to paint a picture of the perfect life. It's meant to catalog the things you want to remember and to share those happy times with others. The things I blog about are the things I want to remember.

So why I am writing about trying to be brave? Because I want to remember. This is a hard journey and these last two months are dragging. I want to remember that I did this. Really, we did this. Rob, Erica, Robby, Jacob, and extended family and friends are all rallying around me and this baby. We want this baby boy and each time I feel him move, I am reminded why I am trying to be brave.

I hope I can live up to my Grandpa's gracious words. I want to look back on this time as a time that I learned, experienced, and ultimately conquered.

In a sentence, I want to be brave because my grandpa thought I was.