We were strangers. Roommates.
Living in the same house, but light years apart. Josh slept on the couch while I cried myself
to sleep most nights, struggling and falling apart all over again. I couldn’t seem to keep myself or my life
together. The day after our counseling
session. The day after I found out my
husband didn’t want to be married to me, I asked him to be compassionate. I told him I would agree to a divorce, if
only he would wait until the baby was born so that I would not be stuck without
healthcare. Josh agreed
immediately. As foolish as it was, I
hoped that maybe within that time he would remember the love he had for me or
maybe the birth of his daughter would soften his hardened heart, making him
realize the blessing his family was.
Although I hoped, I knew I also had to face reality and reality insisted
I start letting go and planning for a future without him.
I had begun talking to my parents about the
issues we were having, but my mother, like me, believed Josh was suffering from
something physiological and if only he could see reason there was still
hope. She knew Josh had asked for a
divorce, but believed there was still a chance for rectification if he could
but once again turn to God and his teachings.
I cried many times over the phone as memories of my courtship to Josh came
to mind. My mom didn’t want us together
because she never believed Josh was good enough for me, and now when she had
the opportunity to say I told you so, she instead listened, encouraged and like
me, held onto hope for both him and for my marriage.
Josh and I had planned to visit my family in July. Josh made it clear he still wanted to go, but
he didn’t seem to be changing his mind about the divorce. In my mind, I figured this was an opportunity. Maybe being with family would rekindle his
desire and responsibility for his own. I
knew it was something I was in need of to have the support and love from family
members to fill my cup and endure the prison my home had seem to become. Then, on a more responsible note, it would
give us the chance to separate bank accounts and other legal things that could
be done more easily, in person, in Colorado.
The car trip there was a long one
as I was almost in my third trimester and my son was 21 months old making him
just old enough to contently demand attention and stimulation, making the two
day car trip a very long one. We stopped
often, trying to give us all the change to get out and stretch. I enjoyed the family time we were spending,
even if it was all just a show for Dorian, it was one I chose to pretend to
believe in if only for the two day care ride.
The two weeks we spent in Colorado
were a blur. I thrived on family; I
spent hours on the deck with Dorian as he played in the water and with my
family. Time passed quickly as did the
rumor of mine and Josh’s divorce. I got
support and love, but what I also got was reality. It became painfully clear to myself that I
was terrified of this divorce as not only would I lose my husband, I would
somehow have to find a way to support me and my two children as well as find
out what to do next with my life. I didn’t
even know how to think that far ahead and the thought of it all ripped at my
insides. As the trip drew to an end I
knew I needed to take Josh’s name of my bank account if this was going to be my
reality. It was a surprisingly easy
process with a nonchalant answer of “we’re getting divorce” when asked why Josh’s
name was being removed. My blood ran
cold at his seemingly lack of care or emotion for the six years we had been
married. This reality became all too real as with cold
shaking hands I signed the needed paperwork to take my spouses name off the
account.
We arrived home, to then put Dorian
in bed and as soon as he was asleep and Josh was in bed himself, I ran to the solace
of the bathroom and cried. I curled into
a ball; pressing my hot, wet check against the cold linoleum and sobbed for all
that I was losing. I hated that he was
doing this to me; to my family; to my son; to my unborn child. Couldn’t he see that despite all of this, I
still loved him? Couldn’t he see that
the problem wasn’t me not accepting him, it was him not accepting me. Why couldn’t he just love me like he promised
he would? Why didn’t he love me anymore? I sobbed so long, I felt myself
starting to hyperventilate, but I didn’t care.
The hurt was so deep, I just didn’t know how to stop it. It was when I was in this state that I felt
Josh curl up against me on the cold, dark floor. How long I had yearned to feel his arms
around me like this, that I sobbed even harder in between gasps of breaths
asking, why he didn’t want me? Why did he want to leave? Why was divorce the
only option for him? Josh began to cry
too, saying this wasn’t what he wanted.
He continued that neither of us was happy living like this. I told him I had been happy, we could be
happy, but he just didn’t want to try and it was killing me. And in all honesty, it did each and every day
feel like I was dying knowing he didn’t want to be with me and how it had all
seemed to happen overnight. I proclaimed
the love I had for him, promising him I would always have love for him. And
then it happened. He said we didn’t have
to get divorced.
I felt like I had won. I had been given another chance. I knew this wouldn’t fix anything, but him
saying that showed me he at least wanted to try and work on it with me
now. Josh insisted I get off the
bathroom floor and move to the bed. Once
in bed he held me and for the first time in months, I had a real smile on my
face. I was too elated to sleep and
thought that maybe the hope I had been clinging to wasn’t as foolish after all.
After Josh and I returned home to
Tennessee we began prepping for the baby that was coming in a couple of
months. Things weren’t as bleak and
helpless for me as I now didn’t have to debate whether or not I should set up a
space for the baby or be packing my belongings.
Josh and I were still very distant, but he
continued to see the psychologist and I figured at the moment, that was
enough. We never returned to couples
counseling as I was scared someone else would tell us to divorce and in my
opinion that just wasn’t an option. I
loved Josh even though we were distant and even though I felt I had been
treated unfairly, I loved him and that should be enough.
Josh and I heard back from the
hospital that neither Josh or myself carried a genetic deficiency, making Baby
Borland a fluke and not a precedent. I
was so relieved to hear the news coupled with the continued ultrasounds
verifying this baby girl was a strong and healthy baby. In my third trimester I was taken off the
status of a high risk pregnancy and labeled normal. However,
I still had complications. Anytime I was
standing or walking I would start contracting and the only way to stop the
contractions would be to sit down and rest, so although not officially on bed
rest, I pretty much had to be or risk putting myself in labor. This had occurred during my pregnancy with
Dorian as early as twenty three weeks where they had to give me several shots
to stop the contractions, that with this pregnancy I tried to take things as
easy as possible. Although you can
imagine that was no easy task with a toddler about to turn two.
My doctor going over my last
pregnancy validated how dangerous it had been and when I expressed my desire to
deliver vaginally, she pretty much said she would not do it. She pointed out all the complications I had
with Dorian and abridged it down to this: if I did not have a cesarean, then I was
putting both my baby’s life and my life in jeopardy. Not
wanting to risk the life of my precious baby, I agreed to a C-section and began
to look forward to the idea of not having to endure the torment I went through
with my son. My doctor wanted to schedule
the c-section for my 39th week of pregnancy. In order for her to do the C-section it had
to be when she was on call, which happened to be October 17, the day after
Dorian turned two. My children would be
two years and one day apart.
We celebrated Dorian’s second
birthday a week early with an Elmo themed birthday party. It was nice having something positive to
throw my time and attention into and turned out very nicely. It was getting to the point that even sitting
I was contracting. My mom flew out a coupled days before the
c-section which gave me peace of mind knowing I could focus on the new baby
without worrying about my son as he would be in very capable hands. I had a doctor’s appointment two days before
the C-section. I was two centimeters dilated, which meant I could come back for
my scheduled appointment. It was surreal
putting my hair in rollers the night before, thinking that the next morning I
would be holding my baby. It was such a
different experience not having to wait for the baby to decided, but to set a
time and be there. I was nervous and
excited. I was still a little nervous
about having a girl, but excited to have the blessing of adding to my family as
I had always wanted at least three children.
I worried about Josh and how he would handle having a baby as he was not
present for Dorian after he had been born and was hopeful he would easily find
his stride as he had the few days he did spend with his son before returning to
deployment. I worried the stress of it
all might overwhelm him as he had already voice the fear of knowing if he had
enough love to share. As a mom, the
thought seemed silly as for me you just carry more love, but the way he saw it
was he only had so much and didn’t know just how to allocate it.
I was restless, the excitement of
the next morning hung in the air like the arrival of Santa Clause, I too waited
for my precious gift. My large swollen
body also worked against a good night’s sleep, but eventually I drifted off to
be awoken by the beeping of my phone alerting me it was time to get up and have
a baby. I woke up to vainly undo my
curlers and put on makeup so that this time when I had photos taken with my new
baby I would not look like death. I then woke Josh up alerting him it was time
to go. I was giddy and groggy with sleep
as we drove to the hospital. I was Nervous
as I was curious if this C-section would be like the last.
We checked in and I was wheeled up
to the maternity ward. I promptly dressed
in my blue hospital gown and got as comfortable as possible in my bed as the
nurses began going over for the hundredth time, my medical history. Once alone,
Josh and I sat mostly in silent anticipation.
I was happy knowing he was there with me and that he wouldn’t be leaving
the country in a matter of days, but deep down I was still scared of him
leaving. I voiced my thanks at him being
with me and the excitement to have our daughter, and he would smile and nod in
agreement. The doctor came in asking how
I was. Once she heard my response of
good she smiled and continued, expressing that due to my circumstances last
time they did not try everything. She
explained that while the epidural did not work, there was something called a
spinal tap that would be a lot safer than having to put me under anesthesia and
asked if I would be willing to try this option as it would allow me to be awake
and allow for Josh to be there with me.
I jumped on the opportunity and while doubtful it would work, I was also
hopeful.
When it was time I was rolled into
the operating room. They had me sit up ,
exposing my bared, scarred back, then had me bend over while the anesthesiologist
inserted a needled into my back.
Needless to say it was not a comfortable experience and when the needle
was inside my back I felt a very real, acute pain. My body started shivering as again and again
he tried to get the needle in the right spot.
Silent tears ran down my cheek and after fifteen minutes and my
uncontrollable shivering they decided it was not an option. They would have to sedate me after all. Although disappointed I would once again miss
out on the birthing process of my child, I was relieved to be done with the
painful attempts of trying. Now I knew for sure if ever I had more children, I would
always have to have a C-section and I would always have to be put under. I lie back down on the table and as instructed,
started counting backwards starting at 10, 9, 8…
Then, all of the sudden,
consciousness of my surroundings began coming back. I was still in the operating room, feeling
heavy and distant. I felt a tugging at
my hand which I realized was my doctor holding my hand congratulating me on a successful
delivery. No complications. Baby is
healthy. Then the lights swirled above
me as we traveled down a hall and into my recovery room. Josh was there waiting. I immediately asked for my baby. I grabbed at reality, trying to shake the grogginess
of the drugs out of my head as a nurse helped me raise my bed. What seemed to me like a flurry of movement
became the calm I felt as my sweet little baby girl was being placed in my
arms. She was beautiful. Perfect. This little angel was everything. It all felt so right. Her, there in my arms. My motherly instinct
took over as I had a strong desire to feed her.
I got her to latch quickly and easily and I felt in my element as I was
not learning how to be a mom; I was being a mom, again. She had so much hair; more than I would have
expected as I was so bald as a baby and Dorian didn’t have a lot of hair when
born, that her full head of blonde was a shock and a beautiful surprise. Everything else seemed to melt away as I held
that little miracle in my arms. It took
the nurses several times of reminding me that she still needed to be bathed
before I was willing to let her go. I
rested while she was cleaned up and awoke every time someone came in the room
to check my vitals in hopes it was my precious baby girl again. It wasn’t very
long before I had the privilege of holding my daughter again. My heart swelled with gratitude at this
beautiful being snuggled against my chest.
There was no crying over a life that wouldn’t be lived, or going home
with shattered hearts this time. This
time, I had everything my heart desired and I couldn’t have felt more humbled
or blessed.
I watched and beamed as Josh held
his baby girl in his arms and for the first time in a long time, it felt as if
the distance between us was gone. Maybe
this was our new start. Maybe Amellia
Rachel Borland was the glue this family needed.
Glue, or not, she was perfect and exactly what I needed in my life, from
that day on and forever.
I love reading your story :) you look beautiful!
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