H week

Monday: huffing horse



 

My son practicing his letter H for the first time.

Helping the huffing horse get to the hospital after being hurt by a hornet.

 Making a horse out of the letter H

Tuesday
As you can see preschool is always a fun time in our house.

After writing the letter H, we talked about what a hero was and who we consider to be a hero everyday.  Being Veteran's Day we wrote letters and drew pictures to a soldier we know, thanking him for being a hero

 

My son also said doctors were heros, which worked perfectly with my next activity as my son helped heal me as we played hospital.

We then played hero tag: to be the hero and help you had to hug and help someone :)

 Wednesday: Look at that H

 Tracing out H, h, h, hands

Making a hedgehog out of clay and spaghetti noodles

We used the sticky hand to play another kind of tag.  Once you hit someone with the hand, they were it.  The kids played this until the hand fell apart lol!

Thursday: hippo day

Made the letter H out of French fries

Made a hippo out of the letter H

Made a hippo out of a paper plate.

Then we played hungry hungry hippos

Friday: Review day!

I would ask which letter is letter...
which letter makes the ....sound
every time he answered correctly...

He got to place a decoration on the h, h, h, house!

G week

Preschool time again!

 

Monday: Giggling goose day

 

making a goose out of the letter G

Making a goose out of a paper plate

My son was the farmer trying to catch me and my daughter, the giggling geese.

 

 

Tuesday: Goat Day

practicing writing the letter G

 

Making a goat out of the letter G



Making a goat out of paper plates

Eating a goat snack of grapes and graham crackers

while the kids ate their goat snacks, I read "The Three Billy Goats Gruff"

 My son then practiced his scissor skills by cutting out the goats.

My daughter the goat :)

Making a G out of grapes

Wednesday

 

Gluing grass onto the letter G 

we read about a kitty who had a special job of protecting the farmer's grain.  We talked about what grain was...

then we made a grain for snack time: Grits!

mmmmmmm

We finished of the day as my son got to pick any g, g, game he wanted.  So we played Sesame Street Chutes and Ladders.

Thursday

 

Look at those Gs



Spray painted some rocks so that my son could dig for Gold!

both kids LOVED this activity!

We then colored a grasshopper green

we talked about how green means GO. so we played red light and green light.  I was really impressed with how long my son wanted to play this.  

Grace

For some time now I have really been struggling internally.  I know I voiced some of the ricocheting thoughts that have been cluttering my mind in a very depressing post earlier on, but for weeks it has drained me as I have felt as if there is some choice I need to be making, yet feeling completely lost as to what I should be doing.  For so long I have felt like I have been floundering around in the feeling I had for different men, the choices I should be making for myself or for my children and overall the general direction of my life.  I have felt trapped, stagnant and very confused as I feel like there is something big coming and I am supposed to be preparing for it, yet I have no idea what it is or how I should be preparing.  It has become terrifying as the last time I felt like something big was coming, it was a very strong feeling (like this) that lasted for weeks; up until the point of the car accident.  So maybe that explains a little better why for about a month, I have just felt completely unhinged.  I feel like I should be doing something in order to find that special person who is out there for me and have felt so conflicted.  You see, I have two amazing men I know who have made it clear they want the opportunity to be exactly what I am looking for, yet I haven't received the confirmation I need to be at peace with either.  So for hours I talk myself in circles about the great qualities these men have, dizzying myself with possibilities and what ifs, only leaving myself more conflicted and confused than before.  In response I did what I always do in these situations: mediation, prayer, scripture reading, fasting, temple attendance and while these things bring me peace, nothing was calming the storm inside of me.  I feel bad admitting this as it was only a thought and not something I actually believe, but in my frustration and exhaustion thought and felt that I had been a little abandoned, as if God wanted me to figure something out that clearly I was incapable of doing on my own.
well, this morning I had the blessing to attend women's conference with the acclaimed speaker and author Sheri Dew.  As you can imagine, the church was completely packed and while I was excited to hear what she had to say, I wasn't at all expecting her to answer the question to my prayers, which is exactly what I got.  There were hundreds of women gathered there today, but when she looked out on the audience her words and the spirit's teaching words through the gift of the Holy Ghost touched my heart and were directed specifically to me. 
In the last several weeks, I have explained the turmoil my mind and spirit have been in despite my best efforts to find peace and guidance.  Let me share what I learned from Sheri Dew that answered to me how to achieve the gift and answer I sought.
She began talking about the power of God and how we all had the ability to call upon that power in our own lives and how we as members of church believe that as we make promises and covenants to God, we receive promises and blessings in return, giving us direct access to this power in our lives.  "We have the dramatic affect of how much of God's power is in our life.  We must seek and ask." She then went on to address that as humans we learn through questioning and how it isn't a bad thing to have questions about the church, or doctrine, or the role God plays in our lives, or how we will be able to do this, that, etc.  It is a positive power to have questions, but in order to resolve the conflict of some of these difficult questions, we must ask ourselves this: Are you willing to engage in a spiritual wrestle?  "Most growth, answers and inspiration require a spiritual wrestle" She explained that in wresting you did not rely on strength alone; you have to learn to leverage your weight and strength in order to overpower an opponent. "the more we understand [the atonement/love of Christ/gospel] the more we have to leverage against our doubts and questions...we have become conditioned to believing we can have an answer in the snap of a finger, but this is a fallacy; a wrestle is required!"
This direction was humbling as only a night or two before in my pride, I was feeling a little sorry for myself wondering why situations, knowledge, choices and direction had not ever come easily to me in my life.  I felt it unfair to have to work and work and work for something that I could only hope was right.  Her words were reaffirming that this method of wrestling is how we come to find truth as we search it out within ourselves, wrestling out the untruths or wring choices or temptations to find the good, the true, the real.
She then focused her attention on one topic, encouraging and challenging us to wrestle for ourselves with one topic: Grace.
She defined grace (As described in the bible) as a divine enabling power.  It is the redeeming (healing) power of Jesus Christ. Blessing us with an opportunity to "feel that burden no more"  There are many things in this life that are bigger than us.  Things that we cannot do on our own.  Grace is the power to overcome and deal with those situations above out capacity.  (Luke 4:18)  She continued to define Grace as a way, not to change circumstances, but our hearts. 
This was it; she was talking to me.  My testimony, my faith, although not perfect, are true and strong.  I know my Father in Heaven is always there, but in order to find the peace I needed to first understand the concept of Grace and how to gain access to it. What it will help me with; when it is present; and how to know when it is helping me.  The Lord will guide me (faith required) but the peace, the calm I am seeking; that comes from grace and I need to wrestle with that concept to understand it to the fullest the way the Lord would want me to.  Is it not everything he stood for and gave and taught as he gave himself as the atonement.  The power of the atonement and that grace from God is a power to not only forgive our sins through repentance, or to give us an ally who understands out personal existence as he triumphed over EVERY human misery, but it is also a means and a power to heal our hearts.
"Every spiritual gift we have is a manifestation of grace."
For weeks I have been praying for guidance and peace and today  I was validated in that I am wrestling for a purpose and in the right way and was given a reminder and power to call upon in my search for peace. Hearing Sister Dew's message today brought me peace as it touched my heart indicating what she was saying was true and right and has inspired me to search more deeply into the concept of grace to find the peace to wrestle and overcome the doubt, loneliness, temper and other imperfections and flaws I find in my life.

Chapter Twenty Seven: Amellia

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 39^th 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.

 

Last chapter I posted (refresher)

Chapter Twenty Six: Counseling

A friend informed me that a group of women from church got together with a member who was a psychologist once a month to talk and discuss things in order to reestablish peace and balance in their lives.  Although it wasn’t group therapy, it was set up in a similar fashion.  Feeling as if my life was completely out of my control, I decided to start attending these sessions.  It was a nice opportunity to give me time to myself, away from home, as I worked on myself through introspection and personality tests.  Very soon after meeting and talking with the psychologist I began sharing with her my fears I had about Josh and how I really believed he had PTSD and most likely bipolar as it ran in his family; not withstanding he exhibited a lot of the signs for both.  She agreed to take him on as a client and worked with me so that we could get him seen off post as we had already tried that avenue first and were told we would have to wait close to three months before he could even be seen.

I began to have hope again as I felt deep inside my heart that if Josh could only get the help he needed to open up and stop closing off, we could once again have the open, loving relationship we once had.  I knew Josh was still very against counseling, but he agreed he would attend two sessions before making a decision.  It was so hard, as it was obvious to me that Josh needed some help in being taught how to deal with the emotions he was burying inside.  I became aware of how the Josh I knew from our first years of marriage was getting harder and harder to see and being replaced with a man I did not understand or respect.  It was impossible to try and communicate this to Josh though as he was always on the defensive and always so angry.  If I even brought up counseling he would start on a rant about how I thought there was something wrong with him.  How I did not love him for who he was and how I was trying to change him.  I just didn’t know what to do as anytime I tried to help, I pushed him further away and it was obvious he was unwilling to help himself, so I had a sigh of relief when Josh began seeing the psychologist I had befriended. 

Due to my miscarriage, when I called to schedule my first prenatal doctor’s appointment I was brought in at six weeks rather than ten. A friend willingly watched Dorian as josh and I made the very nervous car ride to the doctor’s office.  There was a heavy silence riding in the car with us and with a nod to one another we confirmed we were both thinking about what this appointment had been last time for us, just a short three and half months prior.  Josh drove while my hands fidgeted with one another on my lap.  I wanted Josh to take my hand in his and tell me it would all be okay, but he was distant as always and it had grown to the point where I was too nervous to reach out, as I felt that every time I did, I was somehow rejected.  I was at least happy to have his presence as I wasn’t sure I had the strength or fortitude to withstand the waiting room on my own.  Our wait wasn’t too long before we were taken back to a room and I was informed to change into the gown provided me.  I put on the floral dressing gown and crinkled the white paper that covered the table as I sat down upon it. I looked at a fidgety Josh and whispered I was nervous.  The sound of my voice brought his eyes to mine and he admitted that he was nervous too.  We waited for the doctor in the cold quiet room with only the sound of the florescent light buzzing above our heads until finally we heard the faint knock on the door as the doctor walked in.  Reading the look on our faces she started her dialect immediately validating the fears and concerns she knew we had as the congratulations at being back.  Without wasting any time she had the ultra sound machine on and searching as she knew all we cared about was hearing the heartbeat we never heard our last visit. I watched her motionless face and smiled relief when she smiled at having located the heart beat.  She beamed congratulations again as she turned up the sounds, giving our ears and hearts the sound and relief they had been waiting for.  Our doctor continued to give us information and still considered me high risk.  She suggested that due to my high risk, the genetic deformation of baby Borland, and the miscarriage that we go and have an ultra sound and genetic testing done at Vanderbilt Hospital in Nashville.  Appointments were set up and although we had the relief of hearing the heart beat, we knew we still had a ways to go through the pregnancy before we could rest easy.

Josh and I began marriage counseling as well as I wanted to put every ounce of effort into my marriage, but always felt so helpless and hurt as it looked as if Josh was only doing the bare minimum to appease my constant pleas.  I was a little nervous about counseling, but felt comfortable as we began.  We both outlined our issues and it was such a nice change of pace to finally feel like I was being heard and that my emotions were being validated.  The issues of distance, church, trust, and staying in the Army were all brought up.  Once again I had hope, feeling that if we could work on this core, this foundation, then maybe Josh and I could repair our crack and build again as we added this new baby, growing inside my belly, to our family.

The month slowly slipped by, then another.  Nothing really changed or improved, but I felt I was doing everything in my power to fix what was broken and accomplish what needed to be done. My doctor’s appointments were regular and I was a little glad I was high risk as that meant I got an ultra sound at every appointment.  It gave me peace of mind to see my baby at 6 weeks, 10 weeks, and 14 weeks.  My baby was growing healthy and strong inside me.  At the end of May was our Vanderbilt appointment that I looked forward to and feared.  Obviously, as we were already pregnant and the state our marriage was in, Josh and I weren’t exactly talking about adding more in the future, but I was scared to death that there might be a genetic abnormality with the baby I carried or the chance of such hardship in any future pregnancies.  We realized, through my doctor that there was some concern as Josh had a sister pass from Trisomy 13 and I had an uncle who was down syndrome, which meant there were genetic abnormalities in both sides of our families. What if we were somehow destined to repeat the same experience we had with Baby Borland over and over again?

My sister, who lived close, joined Josh and me at the appointment so that she could watch Dorian while Josh and I had blood work drawn and as we met with the genetics counselor.  The genetics counselor also expressed that there was a potential for risk and explained all the risks and abnormalities that could be a possibility.  She then stated that it all depended on the results of this new blood test that could give us a very accurate answer as to if one or both of us carried this extra gene that caused these abnormalities.  Unfortunately, we would have to wait for the results.  Josh and I hated to wait, but felt better knowing we would find out if there would be any issues in the future.  Josh and I then were taken into the room to have the ultra sound done.  Needless to say they were very thorough and I felt as If she rubbed the cold stick of the ultra sound machine over my swollen belly for a full thirty minutes, clicking her machine, taking pictures and making notes.  My back was sore and I waited anxiously for her to just tell me my baby looked the way it should: strong and healthy and I waited very impatiently for her to reveal the gender. 

Finally, after much tension the technician smiled and showed us that we were having a baby girl. I was thrilled, excited, and terrified.  I was so happy to have a girl, but I felt I would be inadequate at raising one as all I knew were boys.  After my struggle at finding the mom inside of me after Josh had left and it was just me and Dorian, I struggled until I found out how to be a mom I was comfortable with and was a little worried I would have to struggle through something similar now that the gender was different.  Awkward flashbacks of my childhood came to mind as I still felt I never learned how to be a girl.  It seemed like a silly idea as I was a woman and a mom, but all growing up I had rather play matchbox cars and action figures with my brother rather than do dance, hair and makeup like my older sister.  I played rough and had all guy friends as I spent my recess out on the soccer field or playing dodge ball with the boys.  In fact, I was always treated like a boy by my friends, up until the devastating time in my life where I began to develop.  Girls talked behind my back about how luckily endowed I was while the boys no longer saw me as the same and I hated myself and my gender for it.

I had spent so much time crying in my room as a child, feeling so out of place and only ever felt I had overcome that when I found the love Josh offered me for being just who I was.  How then, could I teach this perfect little baby girl, how to be a girl? How could I relate to her if she gravitated to all the things I despised growing up?  I certainly felt fear, but more than that, I felt blessed.  Dorian was such a miracle, but to lose a child and then have an opportunity again, made this child just as much as a miracle.  Despite my issues with Josh, I was alive and healthy as were my children and I knew that although things were hard, life could still be good. 

Our drive from Nashville back to Clarksville was pretty quiet.  Josh reassured me he was happy we were having a girl although it didn’t make much difference in his mind what the gender was.  Even though Josh and I sat side by side in the car, I still felt the distance between us.  I rubbed my belly and relished the closeness I had with this new little soul; this miraculous and blessed closeness as I felt everything the little girl inside my felt as she moved and swayed, reassuring me she was still there.

As Josh and I continued our marriage counseling, I became more and more confused.  I would answer questions asked of me and Josh would agree.  The counselor, Josh and I would discuss actions that would need to be altered and yet week after week, word and action never met up.  Although the issue I was hurting over and feeling the most was the relationship he had developed with his old girlfriend, Tasha, we mostly focused on his military service and religion. Eventually the counselor picked up on the lack of action as well and gave me and Josh homework: we were to decide what the non negotiable things we required were; meaning, the things that were essential in a relationship as well as in our lives.  We were to make a list of these things we would not negotiate on. 

That week I contemplated on my non negotiable things very thoughtfully as I tried to decided if I could live a life with someone who no longer believed what I did when it came to religion.  The more I thought on things, the more I realized exactly what was lacking and what it was I needed.  I knew I needed physical intimacy at least once a month.  I already felt so rejected by him, that the continual rejections physically too while my belly swelled with childbirth was just more than my self esteem could take.  I needed someone to allow me to raise my children in my religion and respect the views I had without belittling them or making fun of them as it is an integral part of who I am.  I needed someone who treated me as a partner which meant honesty had to be the foundation.  Simply, my non negotiable were these: trust, intimacy, and religion.

When we met again with the counselor he wanted to start with Josh’s list of non negotiable.  I admit I was disappointed when he listed only two things: he needed to be accepted as a soldier and as someone who didn’t believe in God or religion. This very quickly became pointed and aimed at me saying that I had to just accept and deal with him being military and completely forsaking all our beliefs.  He made remarks about how this was the new him and I just don’t accept who he is and in truth, I never really knew who he was because he had never been himself around me.

His words stabbed and tore at my heart.  All these years I had given him every ounce of who I was.  I showed him every flaw, every mistake, every talent believing all along that he was doing the same as we grew our lives together.  Who was this new Josh and what did he do with the man I married?  The warm tears on my cheek pulled me back into the reality that I had to choose.  Could I accept this new Josh?  How could he promise me eternal marriage and eternal devotion to me and our faith and then just pull it all away from me and expect me to except it when I didn’t even understand it?  What he was asking was just too much.  My mind raced as I thought out scenarios and possibilities and answered as plainly as I could.  I could accept Josh being a soldier and doing deployment again if I knew he was holding to our faith and it’s teachings as it encouraged fidelity, good will, hope, trust and all the things I desired in my relationship.  However, if he was willing to give up being a soldier and find a job that kept him at home, we could work on the trust that had been lost and I would not require him to participate in faith related functions as long as it did not affect how I raised the children.  I just didn’t see how I could do both; how our relationship could endure both.  I broke down into heaving sobs as Josh told me that wasn’t good enough.  He wouldn’t negotiate his non negotiables.  The counselor made it clear that he didn’t condone divorce as an option unless there was no hope of working things out.  However, since we couldn’t agree on the very fundamental parts of ourselves, he suggested we consider the possibility of divorce. 

I continued to cry and break apart inside as we drove to my friend’s house to pick up Dorian.  How had all of this happened?  I had always been so in love with Josh; we had always had what I thought was the perfect relationship.  How then were we deciding to divorce?  How could Josh make the accusation I didn’t know who he was when we had now been married for six years?  How could he say he has always been a different person with me and that all this time he had been unhappy? How had I been so naive; so blind?  What was I going to do? I had a 19 month old son and a baby on the way? How had he changed so much that he wanted to leave me and all that we had?

My head thundered thoughts and questions through my being, while my eyes released all the unspoken words through tears.  I felt sorry for myself.  First the deployment, the birth, the fire, the miscarriage, the cheating and now divorce?  How had my life fallen apart, and so quickly?  That night I asked Josh to sleep on the couch, which he willingly agreed to.  Our rift, our split, our chasm that I had though for so long could be mended, looked like the Grand Canyon as he grabbed his pillow, walking out of the room and downstairs to the couch.  I lie uncomfortably with my body pillow, bloated and struggling with reflux from the pregnancy wondering how I was supposed to survive this life.  The person I was supposed to always count on, trust and love just told me he didn’t want me anymore.

About time

Well after having several friends' encouragement, I am finally working on my memoir again.  I hope to have a new chapter done in a couple of days.  Let me know if you would like me to repost the last chapter I did as a refresher.  If I don't hear from anyone I will just post the new chapter whenever I complete it.