Nearly one year ago, I was asked by my doctor if I was familiar with "Spina Bifida." Little did I know, my life changed in an instant. Initially, tears immediately swelled into my eyes and my heart stopped (or that's how it felt in the moment) as I gripped the phone and held onto my husband closely. I will never forget how tenderly and thoroughly my doctor explained this condition to me and how it was now connected to my baby. I can't describe it, but after tears, confusion, anger, questions to God and numbness, I went to bed that night holding onto hope that God would carry us through this and that it was all for a purpose.

Fast forward the following weeks and I think I learned more about Spina Bifida in about one night just to be able to explain it to others with a brave face. I received so many understanding questions, prayers, and even stories from mothers and children who shared similar journeys with the same condition. I kept asking myself why me, why her, why us? I kept telling myself just countdown to fetal surgery and after recovery, you just have to be careful and follow the doctor's orders until 37 weeks. My eyes were on the prize. Little did I know, those three following months of strict bed rest leading up to my daughter's birth were the moments when I learned more about myself than ever before. I felt like I learned more about Kate through God's Word without even meeting her yet.

I won't lie or sugar coat it: that time away from home was the hardest few months of my life. I relocated to a different city and state, mourned my son and husband leaving every Sunday, worked from my bed or recliner with my computer in my lap, only allowed myself so many trips up and down the stairs, showered in a shower seat every night, slept with six pillows and then some and talked and face timed more than ever. What I didn't easily show were the days and nights I would cry and just ask God to take away the post-surgery pain to make part of it bearable. The dreaded moments of wondering if that was a "normal pregnancy symptom" or if it meant it was time for baby Kate to make her appearance. The countless doctor appointments being restricted to a wheelchair. Being confined to the hospital and my apartment at all times. Choosing my visitors wisely in the midst of the Covid pandemic.

BUT. But, but, but! Those four months of bed rest were beautiful too. How could they have been beautiful by reading the above paragraph? Because during that time, I fell to my knees several times giving every ounce of me to God. I was able to make new friendships and blossom current friendships. Knowing friends came miles away just to spend time on the couch and order take out with me spoke volumes. I will forever cherish those friends who were near and far. I was given a chance to just "be" with my son on the weekends, as not every Mom in that situation is able to see their family or half as frequently. I can't tell you how many times we cuddled tightly in the recliner together. I was able to have a baby shower with family and friends I wouldn't have been able to see in person through the internet - thank goodness for technology. I was given reassurance by the best doctors each week that Kate was thriving and growing. I consistently began writing in about three different journals each day and night, one for my story to share with Kate some day, one to write down my prayers and one just for me. For all of the hard and ugly we are often scared to let others see.

The minute we walked in our door to our home after leaving the hospital with Kate was a moment I will truly grasp and cherish forever. As much as I yearned for and ached for my home during my time away, walking through those doors filled with my family and my house smelling and looking like it always had, it was like I never left in a sense. It was in that moment that I felt pure bliss and gratitude, being delivered home after a long pregnancy, surgery and best rest by the hands of God and welcomed into our HOME with my family. Kate's condition, our journey, led us to this moment. This moment for me to realize what truly matters in life. God. Family. Your Time.

In just a year, Spina Bifida has changed my life. It has given me fresh eyes on the world around me, gratitude for my home and my family, deepened friendships who were with me in my darkest moments that I will forever cherish, new friendships and connections that I hope will be a resource to not only myself, my husband and my son, but my daughter as we go through this journey together, motivation to spread awareness of this condition for not just my daughter, but for the millions of others, increased awareness of accepting and welcoming differences, a newly-lit fire to fight hard for what I believe in, a desire to share my story with others (good, bad and ugly) and a new relationship with God. The One who made this all possible. The One who guided the hands of the doctors. The One who guarded Kate through my pregnancy. The One who safely delivered us home. The One who continues to guide us and is with us forever. It has given me Kate, my best and only girl, my mini-me, my fighter, my light, my sunshine, my sweet girl, my baby. After one year with Spina Bifida, this I know to be true and in the words of my favorite song (Fight on, Fighter, For King and Country) that I dedicate to Kate: "Fight on, Fighter, don't let anyone steal your fire. The spirit is alive inside you. Stronger than you ever thought. Braver than you were before. Oh no, you don't have to be afraid. Together, we'll face it. So don't ever stop, no matter what, 'cause you're gonna make it. FIGHT ON, FIGHTER."

So, a year later, here I am. I spent my first weekend in November dusting off the Christmas tree and decor and ending the night surrounded by my hubby and littles, warm-lit, cozy winter blankets, twinkly lights from the Christmas tree, stockings on the staircase railing, red-berry and eucalyptus touches and a vacant bottom of our Christmas tree awaiting to be filled full of wrapped presents from Santa and family. This past year has given me more gratitude and contentment than I can ever explain. Missing a holiday season in the comfort of my home inspired me to start early this year to soak in every little magical moment. Last year, I gathered with my closest family around a pretty pink tree in our Nashville "home" and my family went above and beyond to make it nothing short of perfect. After all, who you spend your holidays with is what makes the magic glisten and gleam. This year, I will spend the holiday season in the comfort of my home with those same special family members, beaming from ear to ear with Christmas music playing, wrapping paper-covered floors, hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls and most importantly in a house full of love. May the true meaning of the holiday season fill my heart and home with many blessings.

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