Life

Invisible

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I have an invisible disease, two in fact. I have Rheumatoid Arthritis and Fibromyalgia and I have had a terrible few days. I thought I was doing better, but I recently had a severe allergic reaction to a steroid injection. To make matters worse, my right knee is retaining fluid much like my left one did a couple months ago. The only thing that relieved the swelling was a steroid shot. ~Sigh~ Now I wonder if a shot in my right knee would end up being the end of me. Water on the knee caused by RA is painful and limits mobility. I hope I can meet the physical demands of having small children, one with special needs. “#&÷£#;&^:!* it, I want my life back!!!!” No, I am not asking for sympathy. I am determined. I want to take charge of my life again. I can’t do it without help and I want to tell you a few things about living with chronic, invisible disease:

I want your understanding. I may choose my absence, but that’s not how I want it. My heart wants to be around even when my body doesn’t. Don’t take my occasional absence personally.

So, don’t forget about me. If I can’t go out, even after you have asked on multiple occasions,  please keep trying. I really want to go but if I decline, I do have a good reason.

Sometimes others make me feel guilty about having an invisible disease. Not all disabilities can be seen with the eyes. If I require assistance, I assure you, I need it.

I may not look sick, but trust me, I am. I don’t grimace in pain or neglect to take care of myself to gain attention. I want to smile, and I want to look like everyone else. And telling me, “At least you look good,” is flattering but it doesn’t help.

It is hard for me to ask for help so offer a helping hand, even if I don’t ask. Unfortunately, asking for help makes me feel defeated and I don’t want to feel like I have given up.

Don’t treat me differently. I don’t want conversations to feel like those offered to mourners at a funeral. I am still alive.

Don’t make assumptions on my behalf. Would you want to be left out because someone assumed you didn’t want to do something? Again, I’m not dead.

It’s okay to ask if you can help me when you see me struggling. I won’t be offended if you offer to help me carry something or open my door.

Don’t ask me about my health if you don’t want to know. I am an honest person and I don’t like to sugar coat my life to make you feel better. If I get the chance to unload, I’ll take it.

I still want to feel useful. If it is within my ability, I want to help.

Don’t ask, “Are you better now?”
“No, would you like me to be?” I have a life sentence, it will be better for both of us once you accept it.

Please remember, there is no cure for my disease. Although I appreciate the suggestions of alternative healing, I see a specialist. We are working together to give me the best chance of a productive life.

Make me laugh. Even on my worst days, I can almost forget my pain when I laugh.

Be a soft place for me to fall. I need a safe place to be at my worst.

I need friends I can trust. I don’t want drama. My life is too difficult to deal with extra stress.

Be patient with me. I am still learning how to live with a chronic disease. I have good days, I have bad days, and I have really bad days. I am doing the best I can and I am determined to overcome. What I need is you. I need a friend, I need support, and I need lots of love.

*d*

Parent’s Cheat Sheet for the Newly Diagnosed

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My son will be seven in a couple weeks and I can’t decide if I have a harder time accepting how fast he has grown or realizing how long he has struggled. My son was diagnosed with an incurable disease as an infant and it was a very scary time for us. I thought I would write myself a cheat-sheet as the mother of a newly diagnosed child:

* You don’t have to have all the answers right now.
I know it feels like you should but deal only with the issues right in front of you. Ask the questions but don’t overwhelm yourself. There will be time to become an expert, but it won’t happen in one day.

* Take what you learn while researching lightly.
No child is the same. There are worst case scenarios for every illness, but don’t assume the worst until you must. Again, deal with the here and now.

* Do not be afraid to make a phone call to your child’s physician.
I once was hesitant to call my son’s neurologist but I got over it. Don’t hesitate to pick up the phone, even if it’s to ask additional questions. Medical staff really are there to help.

* Buy a notebook.
The first year of post-diagnosis is a blur. It will be hard to remember everything. Write down what you feel is important. It will come in handy during doctor’s appointments. Also, write down all your questions before those appointments. Until you get the hang of your new normal, life will be chaotic.

* Speaking of papers, you may want to organize a place for paperwork.
Life in a few years will be full of paperwork. These documents can be a lifeline of valuable information. DON’T LOSE THEM!

*Get in contact with your local county funded board of disabilities.
Head Start and the local health department are also good places to contact. There are many people and programs designed to help children facing life altering illnesses. You may also want to speak with a social worker at the hospital.

* Love your child.
I know this may sound silly to say but sometimes the addition of a diagnosis can make you feel distant from your child. He or she is the same child they were before you learned of this reality. A child can feel a difference even if they are not able to verbalize it. Affection speaks it’s own language and it’s understood by all.

*Feeling distant from your child is normal and you are not a bad parent.
There will be days where you will feel like you can no longer relate to your child and you may wonder if you still love him/her. I assure you, you still love your child and you will experience a love deeper than you have ever imagined.

* Life doesn’t end here.
Right now, it feels like the life you knew is over. Yes, you will morn. This too is normal. The loss of a healthy child is real and you need to take your time to work through the grieving process.

*Life is now about taking one day at a time.
This was the hardest reality for me to face. I could no longer dream of tomorrow because every day with disability and disease is about getting through today.

* Do not limit your child.
Some may disagree but you child has great potential. Even if your child is severely disabled, he or she can teach you great things.

* The sooner you let go of the guilt, the better.
Guilt does not change reality. Replace guilt with determination. Every time you feel like you are not doing enough, resolve to try harder.

* You don’t have to be strong for anyone, except your child.
There will be times when your child will look at you with fear in his or her eyes. At those moments, you must be ready to say, “I’m here and everything will be alright.”

* You are this child’s hero and you will be their champion.
You are stronger than you know and you will do great things, even when you feel like you are failing. You will be a soft place to fall, a source of strength, and a light for your child in dark times. You may feel at your weakest now, but your courage is about to be unleashed.

* Speak up and speak out!
You have this child for a reason, find it and fulfill it! Use your voice and don’t feel bad about it.

* This just may revive your hope in others.
You will experience compassion and understanding from many people. You will have a rare and special opportunity to see how much love is in this world.

* Don’t be afraid to reach out.
There are resources and people waiting to help. You are not weak by asking for help. You now have a very heavy responsibility.

* It’s never too late for a new start.
There have been days I would rather forget. Some days are extremely difficult but there is always a chance to try again. Regardless of what happens in a day, you can always step back, take a breath, and work for the better.

* You won’t always feel this bad.
I know it may be hard to believe right now but it will get better.

* Blow bubbles, sing silly songs, and laugh with your child.
Smiling won’t be a cure but it will help heal your heart!

There will inevitably be days when you will feel like life is unfair and you are powerless to change it. Remember, you are not alone. There are many parents experiencing the same thing. Most of these parents will tell you how they have been transformed for the better because of the journey in which you are now about to embark. You will see life more clearly and love more selflessly. You will see life through the eyes of a special needs child, and it is life changing.

*d*

Thirty Lessons From a Special Needs Parent

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A few events today had me thinking about the following post. I had originally posted this on my personal Facebook page and I thought I would share it here. I haven’t been a special needs parent for very long but it has certainly changed me in a short period of time.

1: Patience is needed and taught on a daily basis.

2: “Slow to anger” is an important saying that does wonders when practiced.

3: Someone should never be judged based on their disease and/or disability.

4: Never judge someone if you are not coping with their problems.

5: Treat others the way you want to be treated.

6: Whispers, stares, and gossiping about a situation that can’t be helped, hurts.

7: Difficulty teaches compassion.

8: We want to help but are often hindered by our circumstances.

9: Guilt is a part of every day life.

10: Depression is real and is felt a lot more often than we want to admit.

11: Help is not requested as often as it’s needed. It seems important for others to think we aren’t falling apart.

12: We stay at home and shy away from gatherings if we know it will cause stress all around.

13: Choosing a baby-sitter is a big deal, thus we don’t go away as often as we would like.

14: We appreciate the opinions of others but rarely take advice from those who spend very little time with our child.

15: We need and love support, support, support.

16: We rarely want sympathy. We just want someone to talk to. It helps us unload some of our burden.

17: We want to know about your family and notice when you stop reaching out to ours. We realize our life seems depressing, but it is ours.

18: Our hearts break a little when we see others doing things we know we may never be able to do.

19: Negative people and opinions hurt, we are doing the best we can.

20: Love reaches deeper than we ever expected.

21: What seems like a burden to others, is a blessing to us.

22: We are sad when others refuse to see the joy our children bring to our lives.

23: We have seen more compassion and love from others through our difficulty than we ever expected and it’s humbling.

24: Celebrate the little things.

25: Choose the battles that really count.

26: We worry about losing our spouse profoundly more than other people. We know how difficult it would be to raise our children alone.

27: We no longer measure great achievements by the world’s standards.

28: Some of the best friendships we have made are forged through a common bond.

29: With each struggle we become stronger.

30: Our journey has helped us love the differences we see in others.

If given the choice, we would not choose a disease or disability for ourselves or for our children but we have been blessed by the difficulty it has brought us. We know what it means to make every day count and we understand why each day must be appreciated.

*d*

Just a Moment

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There are moments that take you by surprise with the amount of feeling they cause to rush through you. Some are more profound than others, but they’re all recognizable. I guess they’re emotional epiphanies. Sometimes, during an everyday moment, you catch a glimpse of how things really are. Like we’re all actors in this television show and that insight that rushes at you out of nowhere is like the director unexpectedly calling “CUT!”

I’ve had tons of these moments that have given me pause and I’m not going to rack my ever-tired brain trying to recall them now. But I will say that I had one tonight that was moving enough to get me to write. I’m pretty grateful for that since I’ve sort of fallen off the wagon when it comes to being a prolific writer. I was doing so well for a while there, and then, as it does, life got in the way. I’m fighting my way back. Honestly. I’m not giving up…

But anyway, I was brushing my teeth after my shower this evening, and standing in front of the sink in my pajamas. Husband was just outside the open door and we were laughing and talking about something ridiculous (as we often do). I was brushing away and I looked down at myself. I had on a thin, loose fitting tank top and no bra (it’s not as sexy as it sounds. TRUST ME). In the mirror I could see my blotchy, post-shower skin and the frothy blue of the toothpaste dripping from the corners of my mouth like a vampire who’d just fed on the entire Smurf village. I thought: This. Man. Loves. Me. Moreover, he loves me at my rawest. It’s like for a split second I’m 14 again and I can’t believe I’m standing there with my boobs hanging freely and almost under my arms, slobbering on myself, with another person in the room—let alone a man. But that’s what adulthood is. That’s what marriage is. What love is. You’re able to be yourself around another person, to the most extreme limits. It’s both weird and awesome. I mean, if you really think about it.

So I had this little moment of recognition and as I do every time one smacks me in the face, I thank it. I’m grateful for the insight, for knowledge, for the chance to really appreciate what it’s showing me.

~L~

The Princess Says, “Let Go!”

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Tonight I sat on my porch as storms rolled in and somehow I felt youthful. Maybe it was because I sat barefoot on my porch swing or more so that I was able to sit alone and undisturbed. The absence of little ones vying for my attention or a to-do list felt freeing, if just for a few minutes. It made me miss the days when I would drive to my favorite nature preserve and write in my journal. I was alone and free to use my time for more creative tasks. I would walk to a nice spot, sit with my journal and spend an hour spilling out my thoughts on paper. I miss everything about that sentence. I can’t walk without pain or write very long without discomfort. It’s rather sad for me to think about how much has changed in such a short period of time. It seems like a lifetime between now and then, but in reality it has only been a few short years. I wonder, why did my body decide to start attacking itself? I keep hoping it will stop and this pain can also become part of my past.

Tonight I told my husband that I might have been okay with my diagnoses if they would have come several years down the road and not when I have small children. I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow and I’m not thinking about what I will be asking the doctor. Instead, I am thinking about how hard it will be to lift my infant daughter in to and out of her car seat several times, shuffling all four kids between a sitter and home, walking a distance to my doctor’s office, and I wonder after all is done, will I have the strength to make it through the rest of the day. I don’t have the option of calling in sick as a mom, I have to keep going, even when my body doesn’t want to go. My husband recently asked me, “If you knew you would have all this pain before we had kids, would you have had four?”

I replied, “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Isn’t it funny how difficulty often makes us think of hypothetical situations? “If I only knew…..” or “Hindsight is 20/20.” Sure it is but does it matter? Does it help for me to play out future events and allow myself to stress about events that haven’t even occurred? The only thing that can change is now and if I can’t change the past or circumstances that will happen in my future, what am I doing to myself? I must be assembling my own nightmare.

While writing this piece, my daughter called out from her bed, “Mommy! Mommy!” It was difficult to get out of bed and down the hall to her. The RA hurts my joints and the Fibromyalgia hurts the rest. I hobbled down the hall, my head fresh with thoughts of my days sitting in the park and the free feeling I experienced earlier today. She was sitting up in bed and waiting for me. Getting out of my bed was what she anticipated and she expects mommy to come when she calls so I can’t disappoint her just because my body hurts. I sat down on her bed and asked her if she had a bad dream which indeed she had. I kissed her head and started a new dream for her to have, one with a pretty pink princess that dashes away on a pony with a pink mane because pink is my daughter’s favorite color as well as mine. This princess was free of whatever may have caused the bad dream and ready for my daughter to lay down her head and take her on her next big adventure. I was all she needed to forget her nightmare. I underestimated what I can do as a mom and as she closed her eyes, I realized that I didn’t want to be the woman I once was. I too have set off on another adventure and I must redefine my next dream.

I am a mom, a wife, and I am still a writer. I am not famous but I have the privilege of being an author and character in the lives of my children. How lucky am I. Dwelling on the past and worrying about tomorrow robs me of being fully present to write my own future. Yes, it may physically hurt, but it will be beautiful.

~d~

Task Away!!!!!!!!

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Newton’s second law of motion as defined by my handy Google search states that the acceleration of an object is dependent on two variables: the net force acting upon the object and the mass of the object. I love facts and I love Google.

Today a great deal of information is right at our fingertips. For me, it is right on my smartphone. The only Internet access we have is through our cell phone carrier. Because my phone and internet is so handy, I am shamelessly addicted to reading articles, Google-ing questions (and of course useless movie info), checking social media statuses, and fantasizing about my house looking like photos on various home improvement sights. Unfortunately, it is hard to draw the line where fact ends and fantasy begins.  Is the internet “information” I am filling my head with really useful? What am I doing mentally to promote a healthy movement forward? What does this have to do with me writing a blog?

Well, I often wonder why I am so excited about writing and less than enthusiastic about reading a book. I know to grow as a writer I must expose myself to various writing techniques, points of view, and genres but instead, I find myself filling up on all the tidbits the Internet has to offer.  I often remind myself that I should finish any one of the many books I have been working on for months, so I pick one up and once again become distracted. What is wrong with me? Why can’t my mind sit still? I have asked myself these questions quite a bit in the last three months. I know I have been distracted by my own health problems. I have taken a break to allow myself time to accept and rebuild my life with the knowledge of my own illnesses. It was also nearly impossible for me to keep a straight thought after being injected with steroids for my RA several times in the last few months (making me feel less like the Hulk and more like the Joker), the last round ending an ambulance ride for an allergic reaction. I also admit that I like instant gratification. I don’t want to wait for a story to end, I want to know what happens NOW! What if I have another severe allergic reaction and die before I know how the story ends? I know that is why I don’t get hooked on mini-series or television programs, I hate cliff-hangers! It doesn’t mean that I have never finished a book or indulged in a favorite program, it just means that I have acquired a taste for the get-it-now lifestyle this world is becoming accustomed to experiencing. Lastly, I have made it my life’s purpose to attempt to perfect the art of multitasking. I once heard (or probably read some short article) about how to multitask efficiently. It probably declared, “Find something to do when you are between doing another something! Don’t sit idle when there is something else to do!!” This is why I struggle finishing any of the ten tasks I start because I go from one to the other without finishing what I started in the first place! I know how my brain works. If I think of something, I probably should take care of whatever it is, or I will forget. So I start one thing, remember another, then another, and keep building until my brain melts. ~Sigh~ I have gotten better at my multitasking lifestyle; my house is very clean for a large family but my purse isn’t. My laundry is washed and folded as it comes out of the dryer but often doesn’t make its way upstairs before the next laundry day comes around. I have a list of planned meals on my fridge but often eat out because I am too tired to prepare a meal after a long day and swollen joints. In short, I am my own roadblock. How can I possibly move forward when I am sabotaging myself by just being myself? According to Newton’s law, I’m screwed! Anytime I get determination behind my actions, I can’t get moving! I don’t have the strength (literally or figuratively)!
Forward motion takes strength. I have to have muscle behind my words and actions.

By many accounts, I am a strong person but the variables beyond my control have taken the muscle out of my plans. My body got weak and so I got weak. I stopped moving. Who knows how long it will take to adjust to my life without my usual might but at least I understand my weaknesses and this post is one step forward. Isn’t that what’s important? Keep moving forward, even when it’s hard. For me, it’s picking up a book and finishing it, even if it takes all year, organizing my purse or cooking a meal. It’s also taking what I love and using it to my advantage, like searching for Newton’s Laws of Physics and using that information in my next post. I many not have the muscle I used to but I do have creativity!

~d~

Music and Pause

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Pause. My life has been on pause. That includes this blog. Sometimes a pause is necessary to reevaluate our lives and it seems as if my friend and I are experiencing a life shift worthy of a pause simultaneously. We both are once again standing at the crossroads and wondering what direction we need to take. We are both sitting idle at the intersection of life carefully planning the next road to be followed.

Health issues have been to blame; my own, my mother, and my son have been experiencing increased difficulty with health. I have now been told I have two incurable diseases, my mother has had another serious operation, and my son’s epilepsy has been harder than normal to control. I needed a pause. I chose to step away to observe and listen at the crossroads. I needed to know what lie down each road and how to navigate the future. My decision: pull up a chair and wait. I didn’t feel like a change needed to happen, but I did feel a slow down, and pause, was needed. I needed to stop and let the world speed by because I was not able to zip along with the rest of the world (in part by my diagnoses). So here I am sitting in the middle of my road with my feet up and unapologetic about it. While everyone else is buzzing by I refuse to be moved until I know exactly what I want to do. There will be no rash decisions this time, there will be no spontaneous movements, I will wait…..

Pausing life does not come without its share of victims. This blog has flat-lined and I often feel more than guilty about it but I remind myself that this project was meant to be an enjoyable release. I do not want it to start to feeling like a job. I have plenty of work to do and I refuse to make the little things I enjoy feel, well, less enjoyable. Everyone and everything is in too much of a hurry. Everyone is rushing, but to where are they going? What is the destination? Run to our earthly end? Run out of expectation? Run out of habit?

I have been house-sitting while my mother has been in the hospital. Instead of going straight home after my last check, I took all four kids to the cemetery where my grandfather was buried over six months ago and to where my uncle was laid to rest over three years ago. On this day I was listening to a play list of some of my favorite songs instead of the usual kid’s movies. As I pulled up to my grandfather’s grave, Pink Floyd’s song “Wish You Were Here” came up. I parked in front of his tombstone and turned up the radio. It was hard not to be captive by the moment. I could hardly imagine the vast number of people who have visited that same cemetery and their hearts were singing those same lyrics, “How I wish you were here….” I didn’t have the words as I stood beside the bare earth above where he lay, so I just listened. Then, we slowly drove to the other side of the cemetery, my mind still fixated on the moment. I found my uncle’s grave and as I shifted into park, “Whiskey In the Jar” by Metallica began to play. Obviously my songs are in alphabetical order but the order and timing of what happened made me smile. I remember my uncle driving like a bat out of Hell down the interstate listening to our local rock station. He may be the reason Metallica is one of my favorite bands and why it was on that very play list. So I turned up Metallica for my uncle and stood where is body now lays. I was once again at a loss for words but I grinned thinking of my less than proper behavior at a cemetery and how my uncle was one to break the mold. The visit was humbling but not sad. My heart hurts to know that my time with these men is over but I am confident they are not confined to the grave. I know they are as free as the lyrics that filled the air.

A stroll, or drive through a cemetery can be quite humbling. If you haven’t done it, you need to. It is a good reminder that we all will eventually have the same space under the Earth to occupy. With all the running the world says we have to do and all we have to accomplish, we are just speeding closer to that hole in the Earth. STOP. Slow down, sit in your intersection and be unapologetic about it. And listen to a good song or two…… the music of life is hard to hear when you are moving too fast…..

*d*

Selling the Balance

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When I left my job as a hospital housekeeper in April of 2013, I left behind the blood, the tissue, the vomit and urine and most of all, the DRAMA. I left it to finish my novel and take a break after planning our wedding, the wedding of the century—ok, not quite that big, but an ordeal nonetheless. My break went from a month to three months to a year to almost two years. Initially, the plan was to take the break, then look for another job. What we discovered while having me home was that it was nice. There was someone at home to keep the house and yard up, and do the daytime running that would otherwise have to wait for Saturday or result in someone having to take time off from their daytime job. With no kids, I could do all of that and still had time to write and read, which, aside from horses, is inarguably my life’s passion. I also had time to cook and try all of those long-pinned Pinterest recipes. That benefited my husband and me greatly since we’d been guilty of dining out virtually every day of the week and wasting money and gaining weight.

Now that I’m essentially working full-time again, with the cleaning I do for several families and the position in the insurance agency, I’m scrambling for balance. Along with the increased out-of-the-house work, I still have to maintain my home and I also lend a hand to my disabled mother and 84-year-old grandmother. I share the responsibility of keeping Granny living independently in her own home with my mom. We shop for her and mom gets her to appointments. I mow her yard and clean her house and make sure her pills for the week get set up. Mom and I call her throughout the day to remind her to take her medication. For my mom, I do heavy lifting and offer moral support. Being disabled has caused her to be depressed and unable to push forward sometimes. Dealing with my own depression hasn’t always made me the best pep-talker, but I feel like if I go down, we all do. So I keep my head up, my nose just above the lapping waters of anxiety and depression at times, and keep pushing. With everything on my plate, it’s been easy to feel overwhelmed. I have to straighten the chaos.

I know I’m not alone. And that hurts my heart. This country is full of people who’ve given up on their dreams because they have to work. So many are busy working to live that they indeed forget to live. My husband is probably the example of this closest to me. I don’t want that to be me. I don’t want to give up the cooking new recipes and keeping us out of the fast food joints. I don’t want to forfeit my clean house and all the projects I have in mind for this summer and our home. Mostly, I don’t want to let my writing be put on a back burner again.

Right now, it feels like it might be on the back burner of someone else’s stove. I let that happen for years and that’s why it took me a decade to get my novel done. This blog and *d* and joining the writing community Scribophile has allowed me to enjoy writing like I’ve never been able before. I am desperate to not let it go. I don’t want to sell my dreams for a steady paycheck no matter how much I enjoy the work. There is a way to do it all. I know there is. There has to be.

~L~

A Note to My Groom Ten Years Later

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Happy Anniversary to my husband. Ten years have gone by so fast but it hasn’t been easy. If we were to rewind and meet up with ourselves ten years ago, we would not be surprised to know that we desired all the newlywed perfections for our future; a big house, good jobs, the sleek suv filled with our 2-4 kids, maybe a Siberian Husky playing in a big yard, health and happiness. We got some of what we wanted, we finally moved to a nice sized house in a nice community, instead of the suv, we got the mini van we said we never wanted, we don’t have a dog (or any pets for that matter), we have maxed out on our dream number for children, we have had difficulty with health, but we do have happiness.

Our perception of happiness changed from ten years ago. I knew what I wanted and I couldn’t wait to get it. I was just as selfish with my desire to the check off every dream on my list as I was when I met you. I had taken a gnarly road to get to our wedding day and I wanted the road ahead to be as beautiful as the tree lined driveway we dreamed about. It didn’t always turn out that way. Every time we hit a bump on that beautiful road, I was easily discouraged. I waved my white flag and shook my hands at the sky but you reminded me to be patient. You had a positive attitude and encouraged me to pray about our difficulties. Three years into our marriage, we had struggled to get pregnant,  I had some health issues, and we learned our little guy had an incurable disease. For the first time, there was uncertainty in your eyes but you still held strong to the belief that God would see us through. The long, uncertain days became shorter and we began to adjust to our new normal. We began to bond closer together through our common struggles because no one else truly understood what we were facing. The endless nights of little to no sleep turned into years and we began to wear thin. Our special guy began to display behavioral issues, his seizures were never fully controlled and we always had questions. I would be close to losing hope and still you prayed. Your actions were and have always been selfless.

You are patient. You never complain when I need a shoulder to cry on. When those inevitable moments arrive where the world has crashed down on me and I have lost hope in myself, others, and my ability to move forward, you listen. You don’t try to fix me, you talk with me as long as I need, even when our conversation wears on into the morning. You constantly desire to do more and the only flaw I can see in you is the size of your heart. It is so big that you would give away all you have if it meant helping someone you loved. But on the other hand it isn’t such a flaw, God Himself answered prayers with self-sacrificing love.

The only question I would have for our future is, “What would I do without you?” Who would laugh at my terrible jokes, take time to pull apart my reserved personality and see me better than I could ever see myself, and who would help me carry our heavy burden? You are not just my husband, you are the perfect piece of me. I see in you all the things I wish I could be and I often lay awake wondering how I could deserve….. you……

We aren’t perfect but together, we can conquer the imperfections. We can be a cheerleader for one another when we feel like life has handed us too much, we can find a smile under the tears when disappointment once again comes marching in our door, and we can hold on to each other when we have no choice but to pray. It seems like a bulk of our marriage has been praying for answers and hoping we can pull through. In reality, I think the answers we have been seeking have been in front of us for ten years, you in front of me and me in front of you. We have been pushed, pulled and driven harder than most couples but we choose to face it together instead of turning from one another. Happy ten years. I can’t wait to see what else life hurls our way and how strong we will be because of it.

*d*