My unraveling: the catalyst (Part II)

This post is extremely raw and carries with it a revealing honesty about myself.  It is with great pain, sorrow and shame that events in our lives will come to light.  Please understand that there is an intense vulnerability that comes with being completely transparent.  That being said, this is the reason why God laid this blog on my heart, this is merely a step in His healing process. 

Waking up on a Saturday morning is usually blissful.  You have stayed up a little later, slept in a little longer and get to eat a big breakfast with your loved ones.  This Saturday would be different.  On this Saturday morning, Aaron and I would be riding to the hospital where I would have a D&C and say goodbye to our deceased, unborn child.

This sort of thing was not supposed to happen to me.  I was young, healthy and did everything right for the baby.  I was hydrated, well rested and ate exactly what I was supposed to.  No one in my family had experienced anything like this and I only knew one other person who had.  It was unexpected.  It was traumatic.  It was awful.

I did not understand the age-old question of why? 

I turned and looked at God and screamed, "How could you let this happen to us?!"  My husband did not experience the same grief that I did.  There is something about the instantaneous bond between a mother and her child, from the moment those pink lines show up and the nausea sets in.  But with men, that bond has to grow.  Aaron did not share the intense loss and I resented him for it.

I fell into a pit.  I literally felt like I was coming apart.  It was as if my life as I knew it ceased to exist.  I ran from Aaron.  I ran from God.  How could I trust a God that could let something like this happen?  How could I trust Him to lead me, and me to follow.

I retreated into myself.  I decided I knew what was best.  I knew how to run my life, better.  I knew what to do to keep from experiencing that same pain again.

I lost contact with family and stopped going to get-togethers.  I started going out with new friends.  We went to clubs and bars and I started drinking; not in excess, but just enough to get me away from what I did not want to feel.  I sought attention from other men, and got it.  I ran from my life at home, I ran from my husband who did not understand my pain and ran from my responsibilities as a mother.

I lived in a blur.  Working at night, sleeping all day, going out on my off nights, sleeping all day on my off days.  I did not need anyone anymore.  I did not need anything.  I was all I needed and I could handle anything and I was in control.

Except I definitely was not.

The problems Aaron and I had before the pregnancy only intensified when we lost the baby.  Every negative feeling toward each other, every bitter seed, every issue swept under the rug reared it's ugly head within me.  We were two ships passing long enough to mutter a few words to each other.

Instead of getting on my knees, I found solace in strangers.  Instead of falling, broken in front of my husband, my family and closest friends, I fell into secrecy and searched for gratification outside our marriage.  To be honest, the months after the miscarriage are a haze.

I will never play the victim. I am not a martyr blaming my selfish choices on an ill-timed loss.  That merely served as the catalyst my life needed to spin out of control.  The harder I tried to numb the pain- the pain of losing a child, the pain of not feeling loved, the pain of feeling lost to God, the pain of feeling my marriage slip away- the more I did not recognize the life I was trying so hard to control.

It was not until May 18, 2012, sitting in a church watching two people recite their wedding vows in front of family, friends and God, that the weight of all of my terrible choices came down.  It literally hit me like a truck.  It was all I could do to make it through the ceremony.  I wanted to run.  I wanted to scream.  I felt like I was suffocating, choking on everything I had done.  My husband, the best man, in his incredibly attractive tuxedo, stood before me ignorantly blissful to a side of my life no one knew about.

So, it was after the wedding, after the reception, standing in our bathroom that I could contain it no longer.  Everything came spilling out of me.  I literally vomited a truth he was not at all prepared for.

Aaron, staring at me in disbelief, not knowing what to say, what to do or how to react.  I saw the reality of my words settle into his face like I had ripped out his heart.

The next few hours were hell.  We were supposed to be going to the wedding "after party" and at 5 am the next morning we were ALL, the whole wedding party and the bride's family, boarding a plane to leave on a week-long cruise.

Great timing, Krista.

We attempted to go to the party but Aaron asked me to leave, which I did not blame him.  I wanted to crawl in a hole and bury myself.  I was responsible for this pain.  I had caused this.

After hours of back and forth, we decided to still go.  A week of being trapped on a boat.  A week of no choice but to be together.  We had no idea what we were in for.


 
to be continued....

Snow day

Not enough snow at home to play in?  We will just drive to find some! Mountains, here we come!!

My unraveling: in the beginning (Part I)

Even as I am sitting drafting this post, I am fighting it.  I do not want to write this.  I do not want to be this transparent.  I do not want for everyone to know these truths.  But, I am following what I feel God wants me to do.  I am obeying in hopes that someone who may be experiencing anything like this in their own life will seek out other avenues of solving the same issues.  

I graduated from nursing school in December 2009.  I took my boards and started working officially as an RN in March 2010.  Our unit was extremely short staffed at that point so picking up a little overtime was easy.  One extra shift may not seem like a lot but when you are away from home for 12 hours, one added night is not just a little sacrifice.  Couple that 12 hours with at least 8 hours of recovery/sleep time, and you have given up your whole week.

It was nice, in the beginning.  I was making real money for the first time in my life.  I was contributing to the family monetarily and Aaron finally did not have to bust his tail to provide.  That was important to me because I knew Aaron had felt the burden of having to work three side jobs and 60 hour weeks for almost the whole time we had been married, which at that point was 6 years.  We were in heaven. 

Except we were not really.  Aaron wanted me to switch to days.  I did not want to.  And so, our power struggle began.  Something so simple that led to so much more.   

It had always baffled me how a marriage could fall apart.  Looking back, it is not the major life events that lead a couple to divorce.  I truly feel that, for us anyway, it was the daily nicking away at each other.  We did not want to fight.  So instead of fighting we were passive aggressive and tit-for-tat-ed each other into the ground.

You will not go to days, I will just take Abi while you are asleep and go to the beach.

You go to the beach without me, I will just go out with my friends. 

You go out with your friends, I will just drink.

You start drinking, I will just leave.

You leave and I will just stay out all night.

You stay out all night and I will work more so I do not have to be home with you.

You work more and I will just spend more money on things we do not need.

You spend the money I work so hard for, I will rebel.

You rebel by getting your nose pierced even though I hate it and I will just drink. 

It is a vicious cycle.  Instead of communicating and compromising and being honest with each other, we had to "one-up" the other.  Instead of apologizing and realizing how much we were hurting each other, we dug our heels in and waited for the other to break. 

But neither of us did.  

Our day to day life was fake.  Go to work, come home, be pleasant, go to bed, do it all again.  We stopped talking.  We were best friends and we fell away from each other.  We were miserable, but of our own doing.  All it would have taken would have been for one us to wake up.  To come to the other, broken and vulnerable and real.  

But neither of us did.

Aaron started drinking, going out and taking trips with Abi without me.  I started going out and found that other men would freely give me their attention.  Not overtly.  Dancing with girlfriends and guys would buy us drinks. Posting a flattering picture on instagram or twitter and guys would be happy to give you compliments.  And that fed a need within me that I did not realize was there.  I was so insecure because of not feeling loved by my husband that other males met a need he could not fulfill.  

We were so lost.  Lost to each other and lost to God.  

And this went on for about a year and a half.  For 18 long, long months.  Aaron threw himself into Abi and someone else.  Abi became his friend, his companion.  And I was on my own.  Living together, yet living apart.  I liked it that way.  I did not need anyone else.  I was searching for something externally I thought I needed that I would never find.

In September 2011, we had had enough.  We decided it was time for us to continue our lives together.  We decided it was time to have another baby, that having another baby would help bring us back together.  In October I had my IUD removed and we started trying.  It did not take long before we found out I was pregnant.

We were trying.  But, we were not trying correctly.  We did not go to counseling, we did not discover the root of our issues, we did not admit our failures to each other and ask for forgiveness.  We did not openly confess our sins.  Instead, we hid them.  We buried them in hopes that they would never be dug up again.

And then I miscarried. 

.....to be continued

January 27, 2012: A day I will never forget

Some have heard this story before, but I relive it often.

I was 11 weeks pregnant. Abi had just turned seven and she was so excited about being a big sister.  She was going with me to my prenatal appointment and we were ecstatic; we were going to hear the heart beat by doppler!  Five weeks earlier we had seen our little "yolk sac" and the flickering of a teeny baby heart via vaginal ultrasound.  Abi could not wait.

I hopped up on the table and the nurse went to get the doppler.  A squeeze of the warm jelly on my belly, making polite conversation about my first trimester symptoms and how they had subsided.  A concerned look across the nurse's face.

"I am going to go get our other doppler, it is a little bit better."

A twinge of unexpected pain swept through my body.  The nurse came back and added another squeeze of jelly.  Still nothing.  Now a rush of undeniable pain- my heart was beginning to break.

Keep it together, keep it together, keep it together.

The nurse left and I was then tasked with explaining to Abi what was happening.  We were going to go to another room and have another test done, but what it will more than likely show is that the baby in mommy's tummy is no longer alive.

I was wearing black leggings, a long white tank top, a gray cardigan and my favorite gray boots.  It is amazing the details that you remember when you experience tragedy in your life.

Abi had never experienced anything like this in her life up to this point, and neither had I.  How was I supposed to explain to my beautiful baby girl that our baby had not grown past seven weeks, when I did not even understand it myself.

I was given three options in order to remove the deceased baby; a pill that would instigate labor, wait for my body to handle it naturally, or have a D&C.  I opted for the D&C because my body had yet to naturally start the process and I did not want to be awake when the baby was taken from me.

That is a hard to choice to make- which of these ways would you prefer to remove your deceased child?

The next day, January 28, 2012, Aaron and I drove to CMC-Pineville and left a few hours later, hurt and confused.



Today, I celebrate a life that was not given the chance to grace us with it's presence.  Hug your babies, kiss your mate and remember how short life can be.  We are not guaranteed tomorrow, nor a beginning for some of our unborn angels.

Grace is sufficient

Ever just had one of those days?

It seems that I have had quite a few in a row. I cannot escape the things I try to keep buried. 

I am being tormented by my every mistake- mistakes I have made as a wife, mistakes I have made as a mother, every mistake I have made since the 6th grade it feels like. 

I blame it on this new birth control. Something about hormones raging inside your body to get your mind swirling and your emotions raw. 

We beat ourselves up and give ourselves zero room for error. Can I go back in time and erase every wrongdoing? No.  Have I asked forgiveness from the only One who can truly give it? Yes.  Have I asked forgiveness from those I have sinned against and attempted to make amends? To the best of my ability.  

That is where grace steps in. 

And guess what? I am worth it. Yes, even me. I am a sinner. I am human and I will fail, maybe even the same way twice. 

But I was bought with a price. A hefty price paid by the only perfect one. Did God send his son to die and offer salvation to only those who deserve it? No. If that were the case, heaven would be awfully lonely and there would be no point to life. 

It is ok that I have made mistakes, my name is written in a book and even I will be defended when judgement day comes. 

So, even though my hormones are in desperate need of a leveling out, and I'm feeling nuttier every day, I will sleep well tonight because my savior has silenced the tormentor and given my mind peace. 

No one compares to you

I wish my hair was curly like hers....I wish my butt was that tone....If only I could have it all together like she does....

Whatever it may be, we all do it.  We compare ourselves to others. 

I am helping to plan a very close friend's baby shower. And there are 35 people coming! I do not think I know 35 close enough girlfriends to give invitations to. For my baby shower for Brayden all but five people cancelled for one reason or another at the last minute, and three of those five were my mom and two sisters!  Everyone had a legitimate reason; out of town, sick, had to work...

But yesterday I honestly started comparing myself to my dear friend and feeling sorry for myself. 

My sister very lovingly reminded me that our lives took different paths. I did not go to a four-year college, was not in a sorority, moved schools a few times when we were younger, was not from a small town, etc.

After turning this issue over and over in my head, God reminded me how much I am unique.

Comparing ourselves to each other does no good.  We are each formed by God, uniquely made to reflect Him in our own ways.  Beyond sharing the same color, a red apple and a red car are no more alike than you and I, and it is not fair to compare myself to any one other person. 

So smile today, God knows you, He formed you, He loves you. For all that you are and all that you are not.  No one compares to you!

Stubbornness will get you nowhere

When Aaron and I first got married, I did not work. We were married only three and a half months before Abi was born.  Before our five year plan was drastically altered with the news of my pregnancy, I wanted to go to nursing school. It was important to me, and the rest of my family, that I continue with that goal, even after marriage and parenthood.

When I went back to nursing school, Abi had just turned three and for a short period of time she had to be put in daycare. Talk about a heartbreaking situation- Abi hated it, she had not been left with anyone except me and now she spent six to eight hours a day at "school", they had nap time every day, which she was definitely not used to.  She hated the food, she hated being dropped off, she hated it when I said goodbye. It was awful.

I had to get a part-time job as a nurse aide in order to afford the new childcare expense and that meant I was in school during the day all week and worked Friday and Saturday nights at the hospital. My nursing program was two full years and when I graduated she was in regular school, so we decided I could work full-time, or 36 hours a week.  For new grads, nights were the only positions available really, with the hope of being able to switch to days eventually.

And this is where we can honestly say we started down a forked road, traveling alone. We started drifting in opposite directions, away from the life we had envisioned for ourselves laying together daydreaming about the future.

Aaron wanted me home at night, sleeping with him. He begged me to switch from nights to days.  And I, feeling a newfound independence and purpose and identity apart from just being "Aaron's wife" and "Abi's mother", resisted. The more he pushed, the harder I pulled. I was asleep during the day, awake all hours of the night, even when I was off. Chronically under slept, I was constantly cranky and tired and my body felt all out of whack. But I loved nights. I loved the atmosphere in the hospital at night, I loved my coworkers, and the money was better.

Would I ever admit to Aaron that, truth be told, I only liked working nights while I was at work? That every other moment, it wasn't worth it? Heck no. That would mean being wrong.

It may not seem like a big deal to everyone else, but that was a huge stressor on our marriage; one that led to a lot of other mistakes and set in motion quite a few troubled years. Something that seems so stupid to me now, looking back. Why did I fight so hard for something so trivial?

I was not going to give in.

So, I stood my ground and worked nights for almost three years. (It may seem like nights is ideal but in reality you are giving up half a day to sleep before and at least half a day after to sleep it off, and Lord help you if you do not have the luxury of three in a row because then you never recuperate.) And because I would not compromise, because I would not give in, because I just HAD to do what I wanted to do, he gave up.

I was in a real life coma; walking through every day with only myself as the priority.  I was missing out on the important things.  Aaron felt like a single parent.  We did not fight though, so things had to be going ok, right? Wrong.  Neither of us cared enough to fight.

It was not until our lives were in disarray, at a breaking point, reaching our max, that the weight of my selfishness hit me.  My husband was not fighting against me, he was trying to fight for me, for us, for our life.  He felt like he was doing it alone, I was always asleep.  It took the threat of divorce to wake me up. It took losing ourselves completely, unrecognizable to each other, to shock us back into reality.  We made a lot of mistakes along that forked road, but we are getting there. The "dark ages" are no more and our road is straight and we are walking hand in hand.

In the end, there is nothing worth being right. Stubbornness will get you nowhere.  Listen to what your partner is thinking, is feeling, and take heed.  Do not be selfish in your relationship, or you will find yourself alone. Learn from my mistakes.



DISCLAIMER: Night shift is not the enemy! It works for a lot of people and a lot of families, it just did not work in ours. It is not about the shift, it is about the fact that I refused to give in. That is what did not work for us.

The dishes can wait

Before we decided to have a second child, I knew the key to Abi's successful transition from only child for 8 years, to now suddenly having to share everything, was finding ways to make her still feel loved and cherished and just as important as the new baby. That being said, on a day to day basis that is kind of hard with an infant, especially for me. 

Brayden requires so much of my attention, and since we chose to breastfeed, I am his sole source of sustenance. Aaron is absolutely fabulous as a father and as a help, but much of the responsibility for caring for a newborn rested with me. 

There are not many times when it is just me and Abi. Aaron and I work opposite schedules (I am Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and he is Wednesday, Thursday, Friday) so that we do not have to put Brayden in day care. However, last night was an exception. Aaron was working late and I put Brayden to bed around 8:30. I came downstairs after laying him down and looked around. 

There were dishes on the table still from dinner where I had jumped up to put Brayden on the potty (he was grunting and even at 8 months old we are trying to get him to poop on the potty!). There was meat in the crock pot, potatoes and green beans on the stove, I had yet to make Aaron a plate for today and put the rest in the refrigerator and clean up the kitchen. Another 30 minutes worth of work at least. 

But as I looked past the still dirty kitchen, I saw my Abi, my first born and growing-up-too-soon baby girl. She was curled up on the couch under a zebra snuggie. I came to a crossroads. Clean the kitchen and put Abi to bed? Or, abandon the kitchen and go jump under the snuggie with Abi? So, I quickly put the food in containers and piled the dishes in the sink and left the mess. (My touch of the OCD had a problem with this but I'm working through it.)

It's not often that we, as parents, are actually aware enough to recognize an opportunity like this. We are so busy with the tasks of life- get dinner made, clean up from dinner, give baths, get pj's on, brush teeth, read a book, go to bed- that we do not realize how many times we are missing out on spending quality time with our children. Now, each of those tasks does represent an opportunity to enjoy that time together, but for last night, it was more important to me to spend one-on-one time with my girl than to clean a kitchen that could wait. 

And guess what? The dishes are still there. Still sitting in the sink begging to be washed and put away. The stove still has the remnants of salt and pepper that Abi spilled while I was letting her attempt to season the potatoes. But the memory of getting to spend alone time with mom, snuggling in mommy and daddy's bed watching a movie and falling asleep cuddled up next to me- those are the things that matter to Abi.