Here We Go…

Have I just started the most cliché thing for a young wife and Mom to do? Maybe… Is that okay with me? Yes… So…

Here we go…

***Quick (but necessary) Disclaimer: I have no idea what I’m doing.*** For those of you that know me, this first post is going to be a pretty boring one…or maybe not…I don’t really know. Regardless, please read and try your best to enjoy the rambling that’s about to happen. Now that both of those things are out of the way, let’s begin. —————————————- Hi, my name’s Hannah. At 22, I’m a wife of two years to my wonderful husband and a mom to my happy and healthy three-month-old baby boy. (Yes, you read that correctly…22.) My husband and I met after my family moved from Tennessee to Northeast Georgia because my dad felt called to leave the church we had attended for THIRTEEN YEARS to preach at a new church. Did I think the idea of moving was crazy? Yep. Did God care? Nope, but that’s a story for another time. Anyway… We moved to a new house in Northeast Georgia. Things were good for the most part. One day, our hot water heater decided it did not want to heat our water any longer. There were six of us (including two boys who were in fifth and sixth grade at the time) in one house. Showers were not an option. So…Dad proceeded to call the few people he knew to figure out the best person to fix this issue. He finally called Boyd Brooks to come fix the issue. Of course Boyd couldn’t come when my dad was going to be home, so I got a call from my dad with instructions as to where to direct him when he got to the house. For those of you that don’t know, I’m an extremely introverted person. That being said, I REALLY did NOT want to open the door for people I didn’t know and then proceed to give them instructions. I was not a happy camper. Moving on… Before we hung up the phone, my dad says, “You know, Hannah, Boyd’s son is a pretty cute guy…” Me, being the sixteen-year-old I was, rolled my eyes and told him bye. Forty-five minutes later, the doorbell rang, and I sauntered down the stairs to let Boyd and his “cute” son in. I talked calmly to Boyd and told him where the hot water heater was. He started to walk in, and following behind him was Aaron. Dad was right. He had brown, shaggy hair and big, brown eyes (He was a little shorter than I liked…but we won’t dwell on that.). I was swooned. Boyd and Aaron fixed the hot water heater and left my house. As soon as they pulled out of the driveway (not an exaggeration), Aaron had a friend request from me on Facebook. Crazy? Absolutely. Regardless, I had a little bit of a crush. We didn’t start to talk (by “talk” I mean text), until April of 2014. That was almost a year after that first “interaction” with Aaron. I really, really liked this guy. This “talking” lasted for about a month before he called it quits….meaning he just disappeared. Yes, my husband was a jerk. No worries, though, he’s much better now. Following this first undefined relationship, we had several different interactions. Most of them consisted of my, now husband, telling me how pretty I was, then disappearing again. Did I mention he was a jerk? April 2015 rolled around and so did Aaron. We did our usual text for about a week just to catch up, and I fully expected the disappearing act to happen yet again. It didn’t happen this time. We started talking on the phone, going on dates, and, finally, defining our relationship. I had a boyfriend. At this point, I could confidently say that I knew I was supposed to marry Aaron. As a senior in high school, that’s a very bold statement, I know, but I was one-hundred percent sure. I started talking to my parents about this to get their opinion. They already knew I was going to marry Aaron. It’s kind of funny how God works. By July, we were engaged, and I was planning a wedding. One thing you need to know about my life is that, so far, it has been a series of events where I make plans, God laughs, then He changes everything. (This is why my blog is called “Organized Mass Chaos.”) My original plan was to get married to my husband after we both were graduated from college in three years. That did not happen. In April 2016, we set our wedding date for October 1, 2016. Aaron and I were married 7 months and 1 day later. I wanted two things out of our wedding day. The first was that, at the end of the day, I wanted to have a husband. The second was that I wanted everything about our wedding to be centered on Jesus. Both of those things were accomplished in my mind. Continuing on… Aaron and I had discussed starting a family many times prior to Thomas. We knew neither of us were really ready to have kids, but we both did want kids in the future. At this point, we had been married for a year, we were both in school, and we were living in a 400 square foot apartment. Life was great. January rolled around, and I started feeling a little weird. I was tired all the time, which was unusual for me. I just assumed I was a little off. I had just started a new job, so I thought I was getting used to a new schedule. Aaron and I were coming home on a Saturday night, and I said (out loud for the first time ever), “I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant.” This led to the nervous breakdown of the century. ***Ladies…looking back…I should not have told my husband this while he was driving. No matter how freaked out you are, be aware of your surroundings for your sake.*** “Have you taken a test?!” “How do you know?” “Are you 100% sure?!” “You’re taking a test when we get home.” I didn’t have an answer for any of the questions, but I did agree to listen to the last statement he made. I told Aaron to go start a load of laundry. He did just that, and I took the test and laid it on the bathroom sink. I, then, proceeded to go do something in the kitchen (I don’t remember what). Aaron came back in, and I told him not to go look at the test just as I was walking into our bedroom. I came out of the bedroom to find the bathroom door open. I kid you not, I found my husband sitting in the floor with the test in one hand and the pregnancy test instructions in the other. He was looking back and forth from the instructions to the test over and over. At the time, I didn’t know what to do. Now, I just laugh because he was hilarious. Don’t confuse his nerves for any emotion other than happy…He was ecstatic…but very, very nervous. Thomas was due on September 26, 2018. I couldn’t wait. God decided that even the general time frame of a pregnancy wouldn’t work for me, so Thomas came on August 27, 2018 at 12:27am. He was 8 lbs 10 oz, 19.4 inches long, and one month ahead of his due date. Now, Thomas is 3 months old and all of us are as happy as can be. —————————————- This blog is going to be a mixture of everyday happenings in my life and things God continues to teach me daily. Right now, my life is pretty chaotic…but it’s organized because everything’s already been planned (not by me, of course). So…I hope you thoroughly enjoyed the first post about my Organized Mass Chaos. Have a very happy Thursday!

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