ghost hunting

Last week we reserved tickets to go ghost hunting. Apparently the Pensacola lighthouse is one of the top 10 most haunted places and/or lighthouses (we were unclear as to which) in the US.

Obviously we had to go.

After three weeks of trying and them continually being sold out, we decided to book our tickets a week in advance. For most, this seems like the obvious solution. In the Marine Corps if you try to plan anything more than a day in advance, it's like you're begging for something to go wrong. We all held our breath all week, and twice it looked like it was all going to fall apart (goodbye dolla dolla bills y'all), but thankfully it all came together - thank you Jesus.

This has no bearing to the story, I just wanted to use this picture.
He makes cute faces.

So after a long day of go-karts and mini golf, we set off to finally go catch some ghosts.

Pensacola Lighthouse.

Honestly, it was pretty cool - historically speaking. The stories were interesting, the atmosphere was appropriately creepy, and the walk up the 9475480 stairs was worth it to see the view from the top.... well until I realized that it wasn't encased and I had a mild panic attack - but we'll just pretend that never happened.

However, at the end of it all, Sam and I decided that we were definitely skeptics. Everyone else was so certain that they felt "touched" or something, but both times we chalked it up to being a head game. 

While I was sitting outside looking at the lighthouse, I started thinking about the whole "ghost hunting" experience, and I realized why I just couldn't buy into any of it:

I've never had to look for ghosts - they're very present in my everyday life.

No, I'm not about to get all "I see dead people" on you, nothing like that. But there are days that I feel haunted for sure - by memories, by loss, by anxiety, by depression. These ghosts of mine are all too real - and I don't need an electromagnetic device to tell me so.

It seems impossible to be scared of anything these days, after what all I've been through. Seems silly to go ghost hunting, because I think that our "ghosts" are never really hiding. They're always there. Ready to come out whenever you are vulnerable - or maybe have forgotten about them for just a second.

Tonight I forgot for a split second about the heartache and pain that have consumed a lot of my life the past several weeks. I was having a good time with my husband and our friends - I almost felt normal again. No sooner did it happen though, then someone said, "So when are you all thinking of having a baby? You'd have the cutest babies." Cue the anxiety attack that was waiting just below the surface.

Oh, there you are.

While everyone else was trying to catch ghosts, I was trying desperately to run away from mine. 

Tonight my heart is heavy. My mind is restless. 

I don't want to be haunted anymore. 

pensacola ramblings

i am overwhelmed by the response i received from my last post. i had no idea that people would even read it - and more so that they would reach out to me. i've been contacted by so many beautiful people who have offered prayers, advice, stories, and even thanks. it touches my heart to know that in some small way by sharing my story i have helped someone else - that maybe in it's own way, my experience has a purpose beyond myself.

i suppose that's what a testimony is though. you go through a trial, and once you're coming through the other side you share with others what you've learned. that's how we grow. how we learn. i'm grateful to have been able to share my story in such a platform that was even bigger than i knew. 

sam and i are still dealing with everything, but we're beginning to be at peace with the situation. this is largely due to you all - to the prayers that have been prayed for us whenever we were unable to pray for ourselves. thank you. 

thank you, thank you, thank you.

***

i view this blog as my own little space of the internet. a place that years from now i can look back on and reflect on what my life was like whenever i was a newlywed living in pensacola, and getting my first taste of Marine life.

i'm an overly sentimental person.

some say pack rat, but overly sentimental sounds better.helpful tip.

i'm the person who writes down when a picture was taken, who was in it, how old they were, and the situation surrounding each picture on the back of them all. i still have concert ticket stubs stashed around my house and storage unit. i hang maggie's first collar on the christmas tree with the ornaments. i still have receipts from my eighth grade trip, y'all. 

hi, my name is kayla, and i have a problem.

but i think when all is said and done, maybe it's not such a problem - a little inconvenient at times, but i think one day everyone will thank me for holding onto all these memories, and making sure we never forget. and this blog is just one of the ways i'm ensuring that our memories, emotions, and lives are documented.

okay, maybe i could let go of that receipt from eighth grade trip, and no one would notice.

so far, pensacola has been ..... a change. 

i'm a kentucky girl through and through. i wear a necklace around my neck just so everyone down here knows that i am not a local - i may as well tattoo it on my forehead. 

told you so.

even though the change has been anything less than graceful, i'm finally starting to embrace this new little place that i'll be living for the next couple months. i guess it's about time.

1, 2, 3: we spend lots of hours at the dog beach. 

4: our first night in pensacola - aka: the first time we'd been together since early february. we went to McGuires - and they were in trouble, so he had to wear his Chucks.

5: first family photo in 8 months. Memorial Day cookout at the apartment.

1, 2: love getting to skype my best friends, and these sweet babies.

3: when liberty is secured, that leaves only one option - The Crows Nest.

4, 5: a wedding Sam was in down here. it was just as awesome and beautiful as it looks.

1: beach bumming. he wanted to take a picture like i used to in high school. jerk.

2: couldn't resist getting a picture with Hubs when he's in his Blues.

3: while Sam was on bravo shift, that meant that most of our dinners took place on base. i would cook, pack everything up, and go sit at a picnic table and eat with him so we could spend some time together.

4: beach all day, err'day.

5: william and lucas came to visit, so we obviously had to take them to mcguires. also, i'm wearing a "dress" that i got a target, that i didn't realize was actually a large maternity tank top until after the tag was off - #sorrynotsorry #storyofmylife

***

i know my blog posts are generally heavy and well thought out, but this is also a place for me to put down our adventures and pictures so that i'll never forget. because just as the hard stuff shapes you and changes you, i think sometimes we forget that the good stuff can as well. i never want to stop focusing on my good days - the days where it doesn't seem that anything important happens. because those are the days that life happens. and those are the days that we so quickly forget about in the grand scheme of things.

so, here's to the small days as well as the big ones. to being content with where we are, and excited for where we're going.

and here's to pensacola - because as much as i sometimes dislike it, i'll never be able to argue its significance in my life. it's where my husband and i got to be together for the first time in our married life. it's where i learned a hard lesson about loss. where i learned to branch out and make friends. and where i learned that i'm never truly alone, no matter how i may feel.

the one that's hard to write

I've put this off for a bit. I knew that I needed to get it all off of my chest, but I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to let myself feel the feelings that I knew would invade by opening myself up. There were too many feelings, and I just needed to keep them at bay and deal with them bit by bit. But I feel like it's time that I let go - and that starts here.

On Monday, June 30, Sam and I experienced a miscarriage, and on July 1 that news was confirmed by a doctor.

That is the first time since that day that I have used the word miscarriage.
I couldn't bear it. Saying it out loud felt too real.
Too raw.

I think I knew that whole time on Sunday what was happening, but I just didn't want to let myself believe it to be true.
Because I want to be a mama... I want it so bad. So badly in fact, that I'm scared I want it too much. That it's not okay to want something so fiercely.

Growing up when people would ask me what I wanted to be whenever I "grow up" I could never come up with an answer - ever. Even when I was a senior in high school - even now. I remember being a freshman in high school and telling my Mom that all I ever really wanted to do was be a wife and a mama. Is that such a bad thing? It felt like people always looked down on me whenever I would be honest and say that...

"but you're so smart"
"but you need to be able to support yourself"
"you're setting back women's rights by 50 years"
"there's more to life than that"

I've heard them all. And you know what, I respect your opinion. I fully respect your right to do whatever you want in life - because I believe that's what Susan B Anthony wanted whenever she went up to bat for women's rights. You can do whatever you want to do, whether that be work for a huge cooperation, join the military, be secretary of state, or be a mama and a wife that stays at home. Neither of these choices are any less than the other - they're all amazing opportunities, but the most amazing thing of ours - it our CHOICE. No one is telling me what I have to do as a woman, I get to choose. And that's the basis of feminism - you choose what you get to do with your one life, and no one can tell you it's wrong.

But on Monday it felt like the choice was taken out of my hands. I felt broken - physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. When I heard the words being spoken for the first time, I felt like this choice had been taken out of my hands. I felt like I was falling, and I couldn't help myself up. My world had started to crash all around me, but no one else knew. Then the doctor said, "You'll probably have to have a D&C to get the rest of it out."

And that -
that was like taking a bullet.

Because of my personal beliefs, "it" was not some no named science experiment, "it" was my baby. They have to get the rest of my baby out of me.

Oh hey, rock bottom. Nice to see you there.

I was angry. I was angry every time I saw someone post about being pregnant. I was angry every time I saw someone else being happy. I was angry at myself, because I felt like I must have done something wrong. I was angry at my friends and family, because nothing they could say could make me hurt any less. I was angry at God, because he took away the one thing I wanted most in the world.

I was angry. And it was eating me alive.

One night I sat down on my bed and held the onesie that we had bought, and finally I started to let go. And do you know what God told me?

It's okay to be angry. It's okay to be mad at me. I understand. I understand your pain. Just please don't stop talking to me. Yell at me, cry at me, just please don't stop talking.

That was my turning point. That's when I finally realized, I'm not in this alone. When I looked at Sam and said I didn't understand, He did. He understands, and I have to have faith that He would never do anything to hurt me - His plans far exceed what I could ever have envisioned. And when my heart is breaking, I choose to believe that His heart breaks as well - my tears are His tears.

Monday night I told my mom and Sam that I didn't want anyone to know. I wanted to keep my pain centralized. I didn't trust anyone enough to be able to handle me at my worst. I begged them not to tell anyone.

The other night while I sat on the bed and prayed, I came to a realization.

My God is not a God of fear.
But more importantly -

My God is not a God of PRIDE.

I said it. Threw down the gauntlet.
I was being prideful.

I didn't want anyone to know that my heart was broken. I didn't want anyone to know that I could barely make myself get out of bed. I didn't want you to know that for a few days I could barely look at myself in the mirror. I didn't want you to know that in five minutes, it felt like my world caved in.

I didn't want anyone to know that my life was anything less than perfect. I wanted to keep up this charade that portrayed the way I thought my life should look. But life is messy. And more often than not it never goes the way it's supposed to.

So here I am, laying it all out on the line. I'm laying down my pride, and admitting that I can't do this by myself. I can't keep pretending that I'm okay, when in reality I can't even see "okay" at the end of this tunnel.

Sam and I lost a baby last Monday.
And it's terrible, and heartbreaking, and sometimes I still feel like it's not fair.
But at rock bottom, I found a peace and trust in my God that I never had before.

I know that the hurting isn't over. I'll probably always wonder and think about this little person that I never even got to meet. And I don't think I'll ever know why this happened. But the outpouring of love that I've received from people this week - that's what I'm going to choose to focus on right now. Because my life is so full of love - and people that are willing to love me whenever I can't love myself.

So now, I'm going to go get ready and go to the beach with my friends. My friends who came down whenever I needed them most - and reminded me of just how good it feels to belly laugh until you cry. I'm going to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and trust that this isn't the end. God will use this somehow - and I can't wait to see what he has in store for us.

Please pray for us.

For better or for worse.
I've never loved this man more than I do right now.