I’m not a person who likes drama.  I’m not a person who likes change or turmoil or chaos.  On the contrary, I’m a planner, a plotter, a person of routine.  We’ve moved, we’ve had a baby and now that baby is asleep in a hospital bed next to me.  The lack of routine and order makes me twitchy and itchy and makes me dream about running away to Costa Rica. Although Harper is beautiful and appears to fart rainbows she has contracted the RSV virus, which although not serious is a royal pain in my butt.  She is wheezing, and coughing and vomiting.

When I talk to my friends I feel as if I have turned into a drama queen.  Every conversation seems to start with me sharing some life-altering news.; “we sold our house”, “we bought a house”, “we moved”, “we had a baby”, “we’re in the hospital”.  I never thought I would long for the days when my conversation would revolve around whether or not I should be forcing Lucy to eat hot lunch at school.  I actually dread talking to my friends right now because I feel as if all I’m doing is lamenting the chaos, anxiety and stress that surrounds me.  And yet, in this most crazy time I have never felt so supported and loved.  I cannot think of a single moment before that I have had more people rally to my side to lift me up, carry me along and ease my burden.  I’m feeling the need to take a moment and acknowledge that help and support.

My Students

Over the years I’ve made some dear friends out of former students.  Young men and women who have grown up, moved on and become amazing people.  Many of them have sent me messages and notes of encouragement over the past six months but a few have made a real difference:

Lindsey: Thank you for your prayers, visits, care, and encouragement. Your unabashed love and kindness has been a soft cushion during a hard time

Taryn: As always, thank you for feeding me, but also for your open-hand of help.

Micah: I appreciate you moving heavy furniture for me, but also for making me realize that asking for help (and taking it) is not a sign of weakness.

Micki: We couldn’t have survived without you.  You have dropped everything to run to our house to watch our kids, and care for them as if they were your own.  Every mother dreams of a babysitter who loves her children as much as she does and I am so blessed to have found that in you.  Words don’t go far enough

My Friends:

Like so many people I have reconnected with dozens of my old high school pals through Facebook.  It has been amazing to see how the people I liked in high school, I still like.  Some friendships have grown stronger and some have felt like no time has passed at all.  The numerous notes and messages of encouragement have meant everything to me during these past six months.

Laura:  It is nice to know that I still have a friend with whom I can make tasteless jokes during the most trying of times and who doesn’t think I’m a bad person.  God bless you.

Tim: Your words of encouragement over a long distance brought me more comfort than you can imagine.

Kym: You have always been one of my biggest cheerleaders, and supporters.  Thank you for all that you do, which is more than I can acknowledge here.

My Church Family:

I’ve never gone to a church long enough, or been involved enough to ever truly understand what people meant by the term “church family” but now I do.  I get it.  At a minimum I haven’t had to cook for weeks but the best part has been feeling the love of so many people praying for me.  FOR ME?  So many people from our church have called, written, stopped by, sent notes to tell us that they are thinking about us, praying for us and offering to help.  People we barely know – people we have just met.  I have never been the recipient of such charity and kindness and although at times it was hard to humbly accept I couldn’t have survived without it.

My Family:

There truly is not enough space.  To thank my family properly would take an entire blog post.  However, I need to give the biggest thank you to my in-laws, Carolyn & Max, who have  basically lived with us for the past three weeks and without whom my family would have surely fallen into crisis.  They have done dishes, bathed kids, unpacked, cooked meals, assembled furniture, done car pool, gone grocery shopping, babysat, dressed kids, moved furniture, hauled trash, etc, etc – you get the idea. They have been angels supporting David and I and letting us know every step of the way that we are not alone.

My Partner, My Friend, My Love

Stress like this can either bring a couple together or tear them apart.  When faced with a heart-crushing, mind-boggling amount of stress David has a tendency to take that out on the person closest to him — me.  When I’m stressed and feeling the weight of the world I get stubborn, prideful and controlling.  We’re lovely.  So you can only imagine how conversations have been going in our house. Let’s just say that far too many of them ended with me saying “you’re an ass” and David saying “why are you being so stubborn?”

There was something rather cathartic about my unexpected natural childbirth.  The physical pain, screaming and my complete dependence on David allowed us to release all the stress, anxiety and frustration that had been swirling around us for months.  When labor was finished and Harper was welcomed into the world David and I stood there once again united.  Look at what we had done? We knew that this past six months was going to be hard and even though it ended up being more stressful than we anticipated we did it and we now stand on the other side.

A strength of a marriage is not measured when times are good but when they are bad – not in health but in sickness.  I cannot imagine facing the trials and challenges of life with anybody else by my side.  The greatest gift David and I have for each other is forgiveness.  All the mean things said and hurtful actions over the past six months I forgive, and I know David forgives me.  None of it matters. What matters now is that we have a family of five, a new home that our children can grow up in and my best friend is standing by my side sharing it with me.

The house is sold. The new house bought. The closing date is set (Jan. 21st). Movers hired. All that is left to do is pack and prepare myself for leaving my home for the past nine years.  I’ve never lived anywhere long enough to become emotionally attached to a location and so this is a new experience for me. This is what our house looked like when we first bought it:

When David and I bought that house we had $10,000 in savings and thought we were rich.  We were young newlyweds and this house seemed HUGE.  David was so excited about home ownership that the day we closed on the house he immediately ran to Home Depot, bought a lawn mower and mowed the yard.  People assume that I’m sentimental about the memories we made here with our kids, but honestly, I’m more misty eyed about David and I being young and married without kids.

It was during the first six months of our marriage that I stood in our bedroom folding laundry.  I don’t remember what started the fight and indeed I don’t even remember what the fight was about.  What I do know is that it was heated and we were shouting at each other and I was folding socks with noticeable passion.  David let out a loud “AAAARRGHH!! YOU DRIVE ME CRAZY!!” and stomped off down the hall towards the front door. I then heard a loud BAM! And then David exclaimed “OH SHIT!” Feeling absolutely no sympathy for whatever problem he created for himself I shouted back, “WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED?” David paused and then sheepishly responded, “I punched a hole in the wall.”  David is the least violent person I know. As a matter of fact one of the things that attracted me to David was his gentle, calm spirit even in the face of adversity.  This sudden outburst of violence was so uncharacteristic of him that I thought he was joking.  As I started to walk down the hall towards him I shouted, “ARE YOU JOKING?” and at this he started laughing.   When I arrived where he was standing there was about a 5-inch diameter hole in the wall.

The wall in our brand new house.

The wall that was right by the front door.

The door through which our 8 dinner guests were going to be walking through in about 5 hours.

We looked at each other and I muttered, “you’re an idiot. You know you have to fix that now?” David quietly nodded.  We both stood in silence looking at the hole for a moment and then started giggling.  David turned to me and said “please don’t tell anybody tonight that I punched a hole in the wall.” I instantly understood his embarrassment.  David is not at all the kind of guy known for violent or angry outbursts and he knew what he had done was childish.  He didn’t want any of his friends to know.  I understood.

Our first guests arrived for dinner and as they stood in the foyer Chris, the husband, said “hey, what happened to your wall?” David and I hadn’t discussed an alibi and so I stood silent.  David jumped in and said “oh, I was hanging some pictures and the ladder went into the wall.” We all stood looking at each other. Chris smirked, nodded and said “dude, you punched a hole in the wall.”  Busted.

David patched the wall. His first drywall patch job and it was beautiful. To this day you can’t tell where the hole had been.  And yet, I can’t walk past that spot without thinking about that hole. The hole that the new owners know nothing about. The hole that was symbolic of that first year of marriage. The hole that taught David and I that sometimes laughing at your argument is far more productive than fighting in the first place.

When I think about leaving this house it is those memories that I will be the most sad about leaving behind. Lazy Sundays watching football together. Collapsing on the couch together after a party.  Laying in bed worried about living without an income or not getting pregnant. David and I spent the first nine years of our marriage in this house – laying the foundation that one needs to weather the storms of life. It is these early years of navigating our differences, our strengths, our love that I will be sad to leave behind.

I don’t understand women who love being pregnant.   I can understand being so-so with it, or being resigned to it but loving it? Yeah, who are these people?  Overall I have pretty normal, uneventful pregnancies and for a woman of my “advanced maternal age” I’m grateful for that.  I experience the usual spectrum of uncomfortable symptoms; indigestion, a little nausea, some back aches, etc.  Usually my ailments are manageable, non-dangerous and uneventful.  That is, until now.

Last Wednesday the baby “dropped”.  I know she dropped because I had an entire day of painful contractions followed by the feeling that a little person was sitting on my rectum.  When considering the possibilities of where a child could place itself in your body the rectum is not a “happy” place.  After three or four days I began to notice that something didn’t “feel” right.  It became painful to stand, sit, walk.  I chalked this up to late pregnancy discomfort and marched on with my daily activities. By Sunday I was in P-A-I-N and discovered that my sweet little girl had given me hemorrhoids.  I’ve NEVER in my entire life had a hemorrhoid. Why? Why would God do this to me? Why?

I sheepishly divulged my discovery to David who responded by laughing for ten minutes and telling me to not be such a baby. I punished his insensitive remarks by making him go to the drugstore to buy hemorrhoid cream and NOTHING else. Thus drawing acute attention to the embarrassing product he was purchasing.  Having never experienced this particular ailment before I consulted “Dr. Google” who assured me that I would be fine in a couple of days with rest and warm baths.  Except it wasn’t getting better it was getting worse.  And every time I complained about the pain David seemed exasperated and would utter; “it is just hemorrhoids. Lots of people get them”.  I’m sure many people do have them but how do they function?

On Tuesday I woke up to the sight of a lot of blood.  I instantly wanted to do a victory lap around the house screaming to David “SEE! I WAS NOT EXAGGERATING! I WAS IN REAL PAIN AND THERE IS THE PROOF! I’M DYING!”  However, the acute pain and the ax-murder-esque scene in our bathroom was a bit distracting.  I called the doctor with the announcement that something was “WRONG” and how did I know that? Dr. Google told me.  My doctor though, being the professionally trained medical person that she is, was not worried.

What happened at the doctor’s office can only be classified in the department of both horrifying AND embarrassing.  Just when you think your children can no longer embarrass you any longer the one within your womb finds a new low to pull you down to. Both frustrated and frightened I made David come into the examining room with me.  I’m afraid he may never touch me ever again.  Of course David found this to be a great opportunity to make jokes at my expense and the doctor, sensing his jovial nature, joined in. I, on the other hand, being naked from the waist down and feeling a whole new type of physical violation just focused on not throwing up.

And this, this combination of pain, disgust, embarrassment and physical horribleness – do these women who LOOOOVVEE being pregnant never experience this? Or do they find this as a great way to get attention.  Because honestly, right now, while I type this, I have both children climbing on the couch I’m resting on whining and hitting each other.  There are more dirty dishes than clean dishes in the house.  There are more toys on the floor than on the shelves. My children are living off of goldfish crackers and juice boxes (and I can’t promise they haven’t shared the kitty food with the cat). And this is supposed to be a “magical” time in my life?  This is supposed to make me feel beautiful and wonderful and a vessel for God’s miracle of life? Because the only miracle happening in my life right now is the fact that David and I haven’t killed each other or the kids. Or possibly that the health department hasn’t condemned our house.

David promises me that some day – some day soon – I will look back on this and laugh.  Maybe I will, but right now all the laughing is happening through tears.