The first snow....one year later.

*So this is technically the second snowfall, but it's the first REAL one and the first one that required us to shovel our driveway. I'm saying the other one didn't count. 

Last year I wrote a blog post called The First Snow. It was a hard post. It was a hard time. I had just miscarried our second child. We were stuck in a cold house in a cold town in a cold state hundreds and hundreds of miles away from family. The driveway needed to be shoveled. The days were short and sunshine seemed to have disappeared forever.

It was probably our lowest point last year. Personally, it was MY lowest point. It left me with questions and doubts that took a long time to put into words.

Flash forward: one year later.


We're still in a cold house in a cold town in a cold state hundreds and hundreds of miles away from family. Our driveway still needs to be shoveled. The days are still short and the sunshine has hidden its face from our lands.

But the house isn't AS cold as it was last year, and this cold town feels a lot warmer now that we have good friends around us.

The driveway may not be totally clear, but Levi did a lot of it by himself this morning and let me stay in our warm bed.

These short and sunless days have their own unique beauty, especially with fresh snow on the trees and more coming down every minute.

And best of all?

When I was staying in our warm bed it was to peer into a basket next to my side of the bed to check on a sleeping baby boy.

The house is warmer because a tiny (not so tiny anymore) infant needs to be kept warmer than his adult parents.

Family may live hundreds and hundreds of miles away, but a mother is with us right now, keeping my home and my head put together.

We ventured out into the snow and the cold to visit a lactation specialist today, and fresh hope and peace was breathed into this journey called motherhood that I'm so privileged to even make.

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It's still a hard time in our lives. Learning the personality, wants, needs, and quirks of a tiny person who can't communicate farther than grunts, snorts, and cries is daunting. Waking up at all hours of the night is tiring. Trying to feed a hungry mouth while dodging flailing arms is taxing.

But it's such a good time. Those tiny grunts, snorts, and cries swell our hearts to bursting with love and care. Those night hours can very often be the most peaceful (though not always, let's be honest). Those flailing arms and that frantic little mouth show a little boy just BURSTING with energy and personality.

Last year the snow was bleak. This year it's beautiful.

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Keep it real, y'all.