Long Awaited

Hello again. 
This post has been brewing for several months. 

Anna Joy has been gone for 2 years and 5 months. That's how old she would be now.  Surreal. 

Since her birth & passing, we have experienced 2 miscarriages and came quite close to adopting a local baby girl.

Today, we are thrilled to announce that we are expecting a baby boy early August! We found out just a few days before Anna's 2nd birthday. I waited this long to post about it because I wanted to get through the genetic screening, 20 week ultrasound, and the echocardiogram  (just last week). Although way down deep my heart knew he would be fine, I can officially share that he looks very healthy. The cardiologist said he has a perfect heart, and it looks beautiful. Thank God!

After sweet Anna left us for heaven, I felt that I wasn't ready to give up on having another biological child. I would surrender my desires to the Lord, but at the same time be completely honest with Him in that I wanted to carry another baby. I love Isaac and Anna so very much. I just didn't feel that we were "done" yet. 

So. We are 6 months along, and super excited to meet this little guy (no name decided on yet)... feeling overwhelmed by the Lord's continuing gifts. I'm cherishing each movement, each ultrasound image. Another miracle to love.

As I look back at the events we've experienced since Anna, I don't feel sad because of them now. I feel amazed. Amazed at God's faithfulness in carrying us. He still hasn't let go. Through it all, we still ache for our daughter. Through it all, we still HOPE in His goodness and grace - knowing He will work everything into something good and beautiful. And He is. Not because the tests are saying our next baby is healthy. Not because He's given us another child at all. Because no matter what life presents, He is constant. The pains and questions continue to point us to His eternal plan of an indescribable love relationship with Him. He is ever reaching for us, and that gives life purpose. 

This is the verse I started praying and believing for myself Thanksgiving 2012...
"The Lord will surely comfort Zion and will look with compassion on all her ruins; he will make her deserts like Eden, her wastelands like a garden of the Lord. Joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the sound of singing." Isaiah 51:3

The title of our blog is still fitting. Hope brings joy. Not happiness in circumstances. It is peace in the midst of pain and trials - the unexplainable underlying sense of purpose as we ride the parallel tracks of smiles and tears. 

Tomorrow is unknown. Health, relationships, events, finances... We aren't in control. I'm thankful I didn't know what my timeline would look like three years ago. And I'm glad I don't know what the next three years will bring. I do know that God is already there, and I can rest today knowing that He sees the eternal picture of my life... all the while weaving His beauty into every single breath that makes up my story. May this story be more about Him than me. It's all grace. The good and the bad. Because it can point us to His heart if we are willing to look.

Please pray for us as we prepare for our next child to join us. There are so many emotions we experience from day to day. Always missing Anna Joy, always deeply thankful for Isaac, always overwhelmingly excited to meet baby boy... always hoping in God's faithfulness. We expect this baby will bring some healing, but also some refreshed grief over all we missed with Anna. But we know it's still worth it. Love always hopes.

Isaac? Who's that? Isaac who?

Every now and then I think "how come Liss and I don't talk much about Isaac on this blog? After all, he is our first born son." And I never seem to have a good and ready answer. Well, except for the simple fact that the blog is titled Baby Anna Joy...

So Isaac - I'm going to apologize. Someday, when and if you ever get to look back on what your mom and I wrote, please don't think less of us because we seem to focus more on your sister. Please know that through this whole ordeal we have loved you no less than we did before. In fact, we love you more now because of what happened to Anna.

That being said, I'm going to write about Isaac. And for anyone still reading this blog - please don't blast me about how wrong I am when I say this post is about Isaac, and then I get around to talking about Anna. Because that is what it will eventually get to. After all, she is a part of Isaac's story too.

Let me start with a little incident that happened recently. To set the story, my hair is getting pretty long (at least for me...). After I got out of the shower one Saturday I slathered my balding head with lots o styling gel and slicked my hair straight back. No part, no wave, just pure straight lines going from peak to tail. Then I went downstairs. Isaac was sitting at his little picnic table, and he looked up at me and just stared at me. After a moment or two of taking it in, he smiled and said "you look awesome."

Yes!!! That's my boy! He recognizes true coolness when he sees it! Okay, so maybe he is a true boy in the fact that he calls pure silliness "awesome."

Yes, he sure is a true boy. He loves playing with his play swords, and we often end up having sword fights together. We also play baseball together, and like to go down to the lake and throw rocks in the water. And let me tell you about another example, one provided by Alissa's mom.

Isaac was at Grammi's house along with his cousins Brenna and Claire. At the time, Claire was probably around a year old, so just starting to get around, which meant she just followed the other two around wherever they went, but mostly just got in their way. Also, since she is the youngest and doesn't really understand, she often grabs for a toy that one of the other kids already have but don't want to give up yet. I think you get it: toddler interrupting play of older kids who don't want to be interrupted.

Well, Grammi says that Isaac was sitting on a stool, and Claire waddled up. As she did so, Isaac surreptitiously (definition: done, made, or acquired by stealth) created a little pistol out of his index finger and thumb. He then raised it ever so slowly from his lap - but only a couple of inches - and pointed it at his approaching cousin. Then, in barely more than a whisper, and with nary a look of remorse, he let off a couple of "pew! pew's!" at Claire.

Grammi said she had a hard time not laughing out loud. it was so clear to her that Isaac so utterly irritated with Claire, he had to shoot her!

I wish I could tell you where he learned to shoot like that, and how he understands that shooting is a means of resolving conflict (an albeit ugly and mean way to resolve said conflict...), because I'd certainly like to know too. All I can think of is he is simply and completely just a little boy. If I did know where he learned to do that, it would certainly be easier to explain to him that guns are not an easy way to deal with annoying people.

Anyway - wow, how did I get there? Sometimes I wonder about myself, since I tend to wander her and yonder so easy. Isn't there some kind of disorder associated with not keeping a coherent train of thought?

Here's another thing about Isaac. He has shown tendencies to follow in his Uncle Joe's footsteps. To explain, let me tell you that Joe was pretty famous for using any injury he got as a means to garner attention. When he hurt his knee in football one year, everyone in our family was pretty sure he stayed on the crutches for about two weeks longer than necessary.

When Isaac gets a scrape on his knee (one that doesn't even draw any blood), he limps around for the rest of the day. The next morning, he'll get up and be running around for an hour or two without any problems at all. But when he sees the scrape on his knee and remembers that he is hurt, he starts limping again. Brilliant, huh?

Not only am I going to jump quickly to another topic, but going to shift gears too. Time to slow it down a bit.

One time Alissa was gone and Isaac and I were sitting in our front room. We somehow were talking about Anna (see...I told you she would come up!), and how she had some blood that we could see in the little tubes that came out of her chest after her surgery, but before she died. Isaac asked if he had blood too, and I told him he did. I then pointed out that the blood was under his skin. He quickly looked up at me with a stricken look on his face, and I saw his little brain make a connection.

He realized that the fact that we could see Anna's blood had something to do with the fact that she died. And he realized too, that if he lost his blood, he could die too. With fear and tear filled eyes he said "Daddy, I don't want to lose my blood!"

I wrapped him in my arms and hugged him close. "Oh, honey!" I said. And I wanted to tell him that he wouldn't lose so much blood that he would die. But I couldn't do that, I couldn't lie like that! God only knows if something terrible will happen to Isaac, or if he'll just die of natural causes when he is good and old!

My little boy was scared. So I held him close and I told him about heaven, and God, and how Anna's already in heaven, and how I can't wait to get there too. He said he missed Anna. And I started tearing up too.

He was crying still when Alissa came in the door. So she joined us in our little hug there in our little front room on our little red couch, and we cried together about our little Anna Joy.

Ahhh...sweet little girl, we miss you so much. Even your big brother, Isaac does. See? She is a part of Isaac's story. Now lay off me.

I built that...

I finally started to build a toy chest that will hold all of Anna Joy's things that we kept. You know, the sympathy cards, the little stuffed animals that sat on her bed, the little heart objects people gave us, all of that stuff. This project has been a long time coming, and I must say I'm quite excited about it.

Up till now all of Anna's stuff has just been kept in a closet, hodge-podged together for the most part. Alissa did find three decorative boxes to put a lot of it in, but we still have a surplus that needs a home. Thus, our idea to build a toy box. Even so, we still probably won't be able to put all of her stuff in it, but it will hold quite a bit.

You may ask yourself, "why is Matt building one, why doesn't he just go buy one?" Well, Matt likes to not only refer to himself in the third person, but Matt likes to woodwork. Rather than calling oneself a woodworker, one likes to refer to oneself as a wood-butcher, because that is more or less what it is. Matt is still quite the amateur when it comes to proper woodworking techniques, and his signature style is slightly off square.

Okay - I'll stop referring to myself as someone else, back to little ol' me.

One of the cool things about this project (at least for me) is that I have the privilege and honor of working with Tom, who is a long-time fellow amateur woodworker. Perhaps more importantly (no offense Tom), is I get to work in Tom's shop. His shop is what some people would call a woodworkers dream. It's big, well lit, and full of just about every kind of tool that a woodworker would use.

But the really cool thing about this project is the visceral connection (visceral - adjective - relating to deep inward feelings rather than to the intellect) to my daughter. Let me tell you a little bit about the male psyche. We like to see the fruits of our labor. We like to have something physical we can point to and say "that's mine, I did that." We get an emotional high whenever we build, especially if that project has that visceral connection I mentioned a sentence or two earlier.

Now, don't get me wrong, while I can point to Isaac and say "that's mine, I did that" doesn't mean I like him solely because he sprung from my loins. There is so much more to having a child than simply procreating.

One of the joys of fatherhood (and one of the scariest too...) is being able to teach my son about life and about being a man.  My dad taught me (among other things) how to swing an ax, how to shoot a basketball, how to open the door for women, and how to be true to God. I have the opportunity to do those things with Isaac. And I can't wait until he is old enough to take into the shop and teach him how to use the table saw. Until then, I'll content myself with him and I playing with his jets and Star Wars Legos (okay, I bought the Legos more for me than him right now...but he'll grow into them, right?).

But what about Anna? I can't do the teaching stuff. At least not in sense that I get to teach her these things as she grows up. That hurts more than I can describe, even if I wrote thousands, maybe even millions, of words about it.

What, then, can I do to pour into my daughter's life here on earth? How can I manifest my feelings of joy, sorrow, pride, fear, and love? Well, let me build something. Let me have a project that will channel those feelings into a tangible, physical representation. Let me create. Let me mold and shape. And through it all, I'll connect.

I get the joy of hearing Isaac yell "DADDY!!!" as soon as I open the door when I get home from work. But there's something missing from that daily occurrence: Anna's voice joined in. My baby is gone from me, and is in the loving arms of our Lord.

We have pictures of our baby all over the house. I have them on my desk, and her image graces the wallpaper of my phone and computer. I wear a bracelet with her name on it. But let me build this toy chest for her, and I'll be able to open it up, pull something of her's out, sit down on it and say "I built this for my baby girl, this is mine." And then I'll probably cry (like I am right now as I write this), but I'll also find solace and peace.

Our Night Light

Life isn't about seeking comfort, although most of us do seek it. 

I do. I think it's natural.
I'm tired of challenges and pain. I want some refreshment, some new purpose to rejoice over. A break, please! Some good news? Truth is, none of us "deserves" an easy life. Our culture tries to tell us that we do. But I'm learning otherwise. I believe God is loving and wants to bless us. And He does! But He also has told us that this world will present trouble. And I'm learning that through the pain, God reveals more of His heart. He is the Comforter. If I never experience difficulty, there won't be a need for comfort. 

So I find myself here again, seeking comfort (no more hard stuff)... and finding the Comforter (love, peace, and strength in the midst). 

Briefly, let it sink into your heart (as I did) - another pregnancy. July 2nd I was hopeful after the positive test. It felt like it was time for good news, a new chapter, another child. I thought I had confirmation that the Lord was bringing new life to my womb and He gave me peace about entering the scary path of carrying another baby. My last miscarriage was one year ago. At the recent news, I celebrated with family and a few friends, purchased a little outfit and hung it in plain sight where we'd all see it often as a reminder of this blessing. We told our son and his reaction was sweet with excitement.

One week later I was told this pregnancy was not viable, and I felt the wound of loss open again as the deep burning pain ripped at my low abdomen... and my heart. With teary eyes, Matt & I could only throw our hands up and say, "really?"

My life has been a journey of letting go. For some reason, I'm asked to surrender the very thing that has been my greatest desire since childhood. (Hmm. I think I'm learning the reason...) Motherhood, child-bearing, a vibrant growing family, pouring my life into children & home.

During this call to surrender, the enemy serves a combo meal of Why Questions & Depressive Thoughts. Once eaten, these turn into battle-doubts that fight my faith and joy in Christ. My perspective is compromised and once again the focus is on ME instead of the ultimate reason I was even created and saved: relationship with God.

The point isn't to list all of my (our) trials, but to point me (us) to Jesus' great love. And that was ultimately proven on the cross. He gave everything to show His love and try to reach me. 

I acknowledge those sentences may seem trite. Please believe that I'm LIVING them. When you're stripped of everything and literally desperate for your next breath... You are forced to grasp for something. I've been grasping. Know the feeling? Well, Jesus Christ is the only sure foundation that will never move. His is the only hand that won't let go. I have to go back to the basics of my faith and find that foundation once again. 

Certainly, I'm not certain about very many things anymore. But of this I am: God's love is deeper, wider, higher & longer than I can understand. I'm gaining more and more glimpses of that. Honestly, I don't want any more trials or losses or lessons in letting go for a while. I'm really tired. But I'm trying to express how beautiful it can be when I let God carry my broken heart and reveal His. That's my prayer. 

It's not about me. It's not about a pain-free life. Nope. It's going to happen. I don't even want to get into why God allows certain things. Right now, all I'm hanging onto is His love and faithfulness. As I deal with another loss that refreshes my grief over Anna Joy's death, I must - I MUST - remember all He's brought me through. He hasn't just "brought me through" as some annoyed parent who wishes to be rid of a crying child. No, it's been a tender, loving, compassionate carrying. I'm so tempted to list my losses and shove it in God's face as I try to describe the level of pain I've felt. And it's ok if I do that. But here's the thing. He already knows. He knows because He cares. He not only watches it all, He's walking with me through it all... and He's FEELING it all with me. He sent Jesus to live here so I would know He understands my hurt. I can't even wrap my mind around how amazing that is.

I have to mention that God has not just allowed things to be taken, but has given. A lot. And loss can help highlight what I still do have around me. It is very uplifting to count my blessings. After recent news of yet another miscarriage, we went to the coast for a week and I was determined to celebrate these blessings. My 3-yr-old son, Isaac, is a huge blessing to me. I'm realizing more and more what a gift he is.

This evening, just a little while ago, Isaac came out of his bedroom to find me. He needed to be rocked & sung to. After our routine, I gently encouraged him to go back to his room and sleep. 

"I don't want to go back to my room. I don't like the darkness."

I almost told him there was nothing to be afraid of and he was safe - just talk him out of his fears. Something clicked in my heart and halted my words. My response was instead, "Do you need a night light?" Of course he did. He didn't need me to sugar-coat his fears and send him back to bed to fake comfort in the dark. He needed a light to focus on.

I do, too. I don't like the darkness. I feel surrounded in it so thick most days. Especially recently... again. It has been pulling at me, down, down, around in confusion and over in insecurity and back to doubt. I don't like the darkness. In fact, I hate it. Lies whispered into my spirit that penetrate my already broken heart. I'm being fought over. Thank God He loves me enough to fight for me. I can't do it anymore. 

So I found a little travel reading light and set it on a high shelf in Isaac's room so it would shine on the wall. You know what it ended up spotlighting? A cross. The white cross hanging on his wall. Perfect. 

"How's that buddy? Is that better? Can you see the cross?"

"Yeah."

And he's safe.

Thank you, ever-present Father, for your goodness and mercy and grace. My every getting-up, taking steps, breathing in & out... is Your grace. 

Through the pain I've felt the past couple weeks, I'm getting this gift: Don't stop looking at the cross. It's the only thing that will pull us out of the swallowing darkness of self-focus and entitlement. It's not a manipulating scheme. It's a truth that reaches an alive, gentle hand to mine and grasps securely, eternally and says... "I love you. Do you need a night light? Remember the cross."

That's victory. Not pain-free, trial-free living. But finding God's hand through His broken heart over us. That is love. That, my friends, is hope. 

Sovereign

I was blessed to attend the Chris Tomlin - Louie Giglio - Kari Jobe worship concert in Seattle last Saturday. Still singing the songs, still feeling the Spirit, still smiling at all God spoke to me and healed in me. Some of it celebratory, some of it tough truths. This one had me weeping...

"In Your everlasting arms all the pieces of my life..."
My life feels like it's in pieces - more so the past couple of years. I'm not THAT old, but I can look back and see the "pieces" of my life so far... some amazing, some horrible. What a comforting thought that they're all held in God's loving, everlasting arms.

"Whatever comes my way, I will trust You..."
Whatever? Honestly, that's not easy to say for me. Only in God's strength can I say that because I know He's carried me this far... and He won't let me go. Ever.

The past few weeks have thrown me into a new twist in my grief process. I was thrown when I heard my grief counselor, our counselor, our counselor-turned-friend passed away on April 1st. What a blow! This was the sweet woman who listened to our story, Anna's story, and encouraged us and prayed with us. She gave us Godly insight into ourselves and our marriage as we worked through our grief. She cried with us and laughed with us. She was possibly our only objective outlet, and man, I really miss her. I wasn't done talking with her. Not only do I miss her, and grieve my loss of her counsel and friendship in my life, but it feels strange to wonder where all our conversations went. (???) Does that make sense to anybody else? All I shared with her - all those meetings Matt & I sat with her and cried over our frustrations and feelings - all those words...

I know somehow they're not gone. They remain in my heart and mind (and some in my journal). And the basis of what Mary Gayle taught us was Truth, so I know that is eternal. But knowing SHE IS GONE from this earth... that takes my Anna-girl loss a little more out of reach... I don't like that feeling. But I'm already finding more peace day by day as I process and God has begun to show me healing graces within these stories.

At the concert I mentioned above, God showed me that as I was worshiping Him, Anna Joy and Mary Gayle were, too. Right then! It wasn't a here and there type of thing, but a here and NOW - together thing!! I saw them so joyful and complete and fulfilled, and that brought a bit more healing to my broken spirit. 

Oh, that I could stay more eternal-minded! Even after all I've experienced, I struggle with staying there. 

God, help me. I want to say, "whatever comes my way, I will trust You". 
Your arms are everlasting. And I'm SO thankful you can handle with care all the pieces of my life... from beginning to the end.

The Insteads

Familiar thoughts:

• I long to hold my sweet baby girl.
• I want to see Isaac play with her.
• I want to watch Matt rock her to sleep and make her laugh.
• I wanted to get portraits of my kids together.
• I long to buy her clothes and dress her - oh, she'd be so cute! I pretty much tear up every single time I walk by baby girl clothes in stores.
• I want to see her interact with her cousins. 
• I ache to witness my parents loving on her as she grows.

But, no. 
My time with her will be sometime in the distant future. Our forever future!

So, instead...

• I touch her giraffe that has blood stains and rock her pink bear unfulfilled.
• Isaac asks to see her photo in my locket, and carries her stuffed animals around.
• Matt struggles to get through workdays, and we both look to God for help through feeling 'stuck'.
• I study now year-old photos, and cherish the few we have of all four of us together.
• I avoid looking at the few unworn outfits we have, and feel my heart break again.
• I observe my son interact with cousins, and wonder how Anna's story might improve theirs.
• My parents go on day by day... loving the grandkids who are still here with a love that has deepened because of Anna Joy.

Never enough here, but that is ever reminding me of there...

Waiting, aching with HOPE...

2 Corinthians 4:18

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Anna's 1st Birthday Recap

(I wrote this first portion sometime end of November or early December 2012... not long before her birthday.)

----------------------------

I bought pink and purple decorations today. When I first entered the store, I was focused on getting the task completed. Then shock hit as I stood lost among aisles of party supplies... 

She's. not. here. 

There won't be photos taken of her in a party hat or eating her first cupcake. There won't be gift wrap torn by little hands. 

Would her hair still be dark and wavy? Would she be long and skinny like Isaac or more rounded like my side of the family? Would she be walking yet?

I cannot believe a year has passed. A year really isn't that long (seems shorter as I get older), but the phrase of "a year" puts time in a box and doesn't make sense to me right now. 

So for today, I look forward and upward in hope. This week and this month aren't going to be easy. No sir. I nearly suffocate some moments as I think about what we were experiencing a year ago. I need to remember that we're not living those days again. We're in a new year, a new season. Live for today. 

What a blessing to have the opportunity to celebrate Anna's birthday and life with my family and friends who have been so supportive through it all. 

This Saturday, December 8th, 2012, Anna Joy would turn one year old. I have been trying to think of all the ways she was blessed instead of being super overwhelmed by all of the time I didn't get to share with her.


---------------------------
(This portion was written the end of January 2013...)

Matt & I anticipated her 1st birthday with both fear and excitement. I dreaded everything about the day - the memories, the emotions, the unknowns of how it would go. I had no idea what would happen or how I would do. We planned her party for the afternoon, but I knew I would need time by myself before all that happened. 

That morning, I intentionally watched the clock. As her birth time approached, I escaped to my room. I hid in the corner on the floor between my nightstand and the hope chest with her giraffe and bear on my chest and stomach. I lit a candle, took out my pen and journal, and bawled as I wrote whatever came... and watched the time. When I saw 9:36 appear, I lost it. The combination of memories and emotions that flooded me is still indescribable. It was the same grief, but a new version I hadn't experienced previously. 

Here's my journal entry from those agonizing minutes huddled in a dreadful sight of tears and pain on the floor:

"It's your first birthday, sweet girl. I weep for all I'm missing about you. A year ago I was pushing you out. God was intervening for us in powerful ways - ways I will never fully understand or be aware of. But I think back and am amazed...
      ... you're almost here...
I was laboring so hard, pulling strength from Father God, being held by Friend Jesus Christ, and comforted by the Holy Spirit.
      I was so motivated to see you. Yes, I had fears, but God was so close - so many people were praying. You are such a blessed girl.
      I will never forget the first time I saw you. I was so thrilled to finally see you and meet you face to face.

{9:36am}      Happy Birthday
                           Anna Joy!

You are my daughter!
      You are such a blessing, a gift I don't deserve to call mine. I will always marvel at your beauty.
      Do you get a birthday party in heaven? Are you like a 1-year-old there?
So much of me wishes you were here. There's so much I didn't get to do with you.
      But I'm truly happy for you, that you don't have to deal with this world. I can only try to imagine what wonders you get to experience. I know you get to dance with Jesus and sit on Father God's lap, wrapped in His loving, everlasting arms.
      Rest there, sweetheart.
Show me what you see, what you hear, what you feel.
      You have changed my life, Anna. I praise God for you and will forever rejoice over you.
      I can't believe it's been a year. Nothing really makes sense anymore.
      We celebrate you today, thanking our Lord for YOU and all the blessings that have come to us because of you."

After that horrible but healing remembrance, I slowly unfolded from the heap, fixed my make-up and went back downstairs to continue setting up for my baby's first birthday party. The first one of many that we have to face without her present. 

We decorated, friends & family gathered, we shared. It was a very comforting, healing day overall. We were again overwhelmed at the support we have not only locally, but from distant friends. 

A friend from church offered to pick up flowers for the party even though she couldn't attend. I pictured just a couple bunches for one arrangement, maybe two if there was enough. This is what she brought me! I was so touched. Another friend came over to help arrange. We had these, plus a few more arrangements people brought. Surrounded by pink gentleness & beauty.

Anna's birthday card from my dad

One of my scrapbook pages. It says,
"I will never forget this sight, this kiss, this joy"

One of her keepsake boxes

On the front door

From another friend: 11 pink and 1 white. So thoughtful!

Even though a year has gone by since we welcomed our Anna Joy into this world and into our arms, it doesn't take much to move us back to that very moment. 

When I was younger, I thought a year was a long time. But I'm learning I can't put labels on what time should feel like or look like anymore.  It can't be true that a whole year has passed! On the other hand, the past year felt so incredibly long some days. 

I may have all that mixed up inside me, but I also have been covered in a sweet grace that I can't help but fall into. I have no doubt we've been protected from so much. I think God has covered our eyes at times so we haven't seen things we weren't ready for, or steered our feet so we'd walk in a brightly lit path - without our knowing. 


The way our Heavenly Father faithfully & gently carries us through has continued to amaze us. Not that we think He would ever drop us, but His care is so very constant, personal, and obvious. 

I may feel that not much makes sense sometimes, but when all I know is that Jesus is with me, and He won't leave me or fail me... nothing else matters. It's what makes this unspeakable heartache survivable. 

I'm holding on, and I'm celebrating through the tears.