On Friday, Chris, me and the kiddies will pack up and head to meet my parents, my sister, and her husband, John Michael, at the beach for a long weekend together. It’s been planned for months and I’ve really been looking forward to it. But now, as the weekend approaches, I have to tell you that I’m a little nervous about it. Actually, I’m not nervous about the weekend. For the first time in my whole life, I’m nervous about seeing my sister.
Two weeks ago, my sister miscarried. She was 15 weeks pregnant.
I just wrote that last sentence and then sat here for 10 minutes trying to think of what to write next. And that’s the exact reason I am nervous about seeing Ginny. I just don’t know what to say to her.
She miscarried over the course of several days while she and John Michael were out in California on vacation. She was stuck in a hotel room, far from family, and going through such a horrific experience. When she finally was able to get on an airplane, she came home to her Atlanta doctor, who confirmed what Ginny had feared. She had miscarried. That day, as if things weren’t hard enough, Ginny had to go in for a D&C. When she woke up, John Michael and my dad were there, but it took Ginny a few minutes to understand what was going on.
“Wait, why am I here?” she asked.
And then she remembered. My dad said that he had never seen such raw emotion in a human being before as Ginny broke down there in the hospital.
Throughout those days, Ginny cried and cried and cried. And as I sat on the phone with her, thousands of miles away, I cried with her, but couldn’t form one supportive comment. Not one.
Because what do you say? What do you say to someone who loves kids more than her next breathe, who wants to be a mom more than anything else? What do you say when you’ve got two boxes of pink clothes all boxed up for your niece who won’t be here in December after all? What do you say to your best friend as she goes through such an incredible loss?
I love you?
I wish I could go through this for you?
I’m praying for you?
I’m sorry?
None of it makes what happened any easier. None of it repaints the nursery walls back to white or empties out the closet already filling with pink onesies. None of it seems to matter when the hurt was that deep and that raw.
And so, I sat very quietly and didn’t say anything to one of the most important people in my life as she went through one of the saddest times in her life. And I felt so ashamed about that. I still feel ashamed. That I can write and write and write and talk and talk and talk when it doesn’t matter, and then when it really does matter, there were just no words to be found.
I didn’t know what to say because I have no idea what she is going through. I can’t even imagine. And I didn’t know what to say because I was sad, too. Ginny’s pregnancy was a celebration for our whole family and so her miscarriage was a devastation for our whole family, too.
But you know who it was that finally gave me the strength to speak? It was Ginny. I was supposed to be the one lifting her up and instead, in true Ginny fashion, she taught me. She taught me how to really grieve for something. How to shut out the world and give yourself time. She taught me how to find strength in small, daily activities and how to look forward while still remembering the past. She taught me that laughter really does help, but only when you’re ready to laugh. And she taught – and is continuing to teach me – that every day we start over again, fresh, and even if we break down once or twice in that day, we get a redo tomorrow. She taught me what it really is to love the Lord so deeply that you can praise and thank him in the middle of such sadness.
But more than those things, she taught me the importance of our husbands. The importance of choosing well because you’re choosing someone to share your very high ups and your deepest downs. She taught me that in times of great sadness, it is the heart of our husbands that we turn to for support.
This was the first tragedy Ginny has experienced as a married woman and so it was the first time that she turned to someone other than her family to get her through. Though we were never far from her, I couldn’t be more grateful for John Michael’s presence in Ginny’s life and in our family. Knowing that he was the one to carry her through this made me worry just a bit less about her.
The love that they have for each other will make them wonderful parents one day.
We leave on Friday for the beach and my nerves are a bit on edge. I’m not sure what I’ll be able to say to Ginny when I can finally see her face to face. I’m not sure how she’ll react to seeing Bean and Gracie. I’m just not sure. But I know that if I stand there struggling with how to go forward, it will be my sweet, strong sister who shows me how it’s done.
26Jun
(Before I resume our regularly scheduled programming of nonsense here on Marriage Confessions this morning, I wanted to take a minute to thank you all for your outpouring of kindness, encouragement, and support last week. Your comments and emails were incredibly uplifting and just what I needed to hear in my blogging slump. Fear not. I will continue to rattle on about the mundane until you all stop coming back and commiserating with me. So, thanks for the encouragement. You made my heart happy.)
I’ve mentioned it before, but we are in the process of buying a house. I love how simple it sounds when you say “buying a house.” As if it’s just something you can pick up on your lunch break at Target, instead of it being one of the most nerve-wracking processes you can go through.
First, there’s coming to the decision that you’re ready to buy. How do you know? You sit at home with your spouse making up numbers and budgets as if you know what you’re doing, but when it comes down to it, you’re really just crossing your fingers that you haven’t missed a few zeroes in the numbers somewhere. What I really want to do is call my mom and ask her permission. I feel like buying a house requires parental permission for some reason. Incidentally, I feel the same way when I watch a rated R movie. Like I need to call my mom and ask her first.
So, you decide through budgets and paycheck calculations (and a parental phone call, if necessary) that you’re ready to buy. Then things get even tougher. You have to decide what it is you want to buy. For Chris and I, it was really different this time around than the first time we bought. When we bought in Connecticut, we didn’t have a family so we weren’t so concerned with schools or community recreation centers or even the size of the other bedrooms. Which explains why Bean’s first bedroom was roughly the size of a walk-in closet. This time, we knew right away that the area we lived in was just as important, if not more important, than the house itself. That was a given. What was tough on us was deciding if we wanted to buy a smaller house that was more affordable, but that we would probably outgrow in 5-10 years as the kids got bigger, or if we wanted to stretch ourselves and find something bigger where we could plant ourselves while our kids grew up.
The first house we put an offer in on about a month ago was a beautiful, immaculate little house. It had three bedrooms and two baths, a huge screened in pool, and an open-floor layout like the house we have now, which is really great for little kids but would be a challenge as Bean and Gracie grew up and we all needed more independent space. But it was in the area we wanted and the price was exactly what we had budgeted for. Unfortunately, the seller was a little nutty and ended up taking his house off the market right after we made an offer. We were disappointed, but we moved on pretty quickly.
After seeing several other houses, Chris and I kept going back to this one house. It wasn’t our first pick. In fact, it wasn’t even in the top three. But the more we thought about it, the more appealing it became. This house has over 2,500 square feet. In terms of what we thought we could afford, it is massive. It has four bedrooms and three full baths. The living room, dining room, and kitchen are all open, just like what we have now, but the difference is that this house has an entire finished basement that will be used as a playroom and office. So, while right now the kids might be in the living room area where we can see them all the time, as they get older and bigger, there’s a whole other part of the house for them to use. It has a yard that is twice the size of the first house we saw, which includes an enormous deck and a nice big pool.
The catch? This house was $20,000 more than the first house.
In the grand scheme of things, $20,000 in a mortgage payment isn’t really that big of a deal. It comes out to a little over $100 more a month in our mortgage payment. But with two kids in daycare, student loan debt, and two minimally paying jobs, ever dollar counts in our budget. After much debating and praying and worrying, we finally bit the bullet and decided it was worth it. We’d tighten our bootstraps even more than they already are (though I didn’t know where else we could cut in our budgeting) and then just hope that in five years when we didn’t have to pay daycare anymore, we could finally have the flexibility in our finances that we wanted to have.
The night that we made the offer, I was a wreck. My nerves were wound so tight. I had buyers remorse and we hadn’t even bought it yet! But as I rocked Gracie to sleep that night, I prayed over the situation (am I the only one who does most of her praying while rocking her babies?). I told God that I knew I hadn’t had a lot of faith in him over the past year given everything that we had gone through, but that I was ready to give this over to him 100%. No holding back. If it was his will, then I would go forward, knowing that somehow he would provide. And the amazing part was that I was actually able to do that. I really didn’t worry about the house at all. If it worked out, wonderful. If it didn’t, then God would show us where he wanted us to be instead. After that initial freak out, I laid it all down and moved on.
Let go and let God. Isn’t that what the saying is?
For the past few weeks, we have been going through the steps of buying the house. We’ve had the home inspection, we’re getting our mortgage paperwork together, we’re comparing homeowners insurance rates, and, of course, the bank came out and did the appraisal. And that’s when our realtor called this weekend. He told us that the appraisal on the house came in at exactly $20,000 less than what we offered and since our contract had a clause in there which allowed us to alter our buying price after the appraisal, that meant that we would be renegotiating the buying price on the house for $20,000 less than what we were originally going to buy it for.
Have I confused you yet? Well, let me put it simply:
We found a small house in our price range. God said no and the house came off the market. We found a bigger house out of our price range and prayed. God said yes and lowered the price of the house to exactly what we had budgeted. Amen. The End.
Could this be coincidental? Yes. Of course. In fact, if you don’t believe in God, then this blog post is probably no more than a wonderful stroke of luck or, even more simply, just a sign of the times right now in the housing market. And that’s okay if that’s what you believe. I don’t blame you. I’m not trying to change anyone’s mind here.
But in my heart and after the past year that I’ve had losing my footing in my faith and trying so hard to get back on my spiritual feet, this was God putting his arm around me like a good friend, squeezing me, and saying, “Did I not tell you I had your back?”
We are scheduled to close on the house July 15. Our lease isn’t up here until September 1, so we’ll be using that month and a half to pack and make some repairs on the new house. It needs to be painted and have the carpets replaced, things like that. Good thing I’ve got such a handy husband. And, of course, Bean. Chris showed him how to use a screwdriver this weekend and so Bean tried to take every door off its hinges. I admire that commitment. And I hope it lasts until we move in. Child labor laws don’t count if it’s your own child, right?
“He replied, ‘You of little faith, why are you so afraid?’ Then he got up and rebuked the wind and the waves and it was completely calm.” Matthew 8:26
23Jun
One of my favorite characteristics in Chris is that he is unshakable. Unstoppable. Unflappable. You know that phrase, “He takes a lickin’ and keeps on tickin’?” They basically wrote that about Chris. There hasn’t been any challenge I’ve seen him face that he hasn’t been able to rise to, take on, and move forward as a better person. And usually, he does this while bringing his family to a better place, too. He’s just that kind of person. He believes in success and he believes that he can be successful at anything, which makes him one of the strongest people I know.
Also? He looks good holding a baby.
Lately though, Chris just can’t catch a break. He got a big promotion at work a few months ago – actually the very week that Gracie was born – which basically gave him two full-time jobs at his company. He’s completely capable of doing both jobs, but the transition to wearing two different hats at the same time has been challenging and exhausting. But you’d never know. He doesn’t complain or make excuses. He just keeps his head down and plows on through.
At the same time, we’re in the process of buying a house. The first house we put an offer in on didn’t work out, but we’re just about to complete the process of buying a different house and we’re scheduled to close on July 15. While I have been involved in the process, it really has been Chris who has taken the responsibility of buying this house on his shoulders. He won’t say it, but I know it’s because he’s trying to keep me from cracking under all the uncertainty and anxieties. To help me stay calm, he’s been the one gathering paperwork for the mortgage company, handling the inspection process, and working with our realtor on hammering out the details of our contract. And, as anyone who has bought a house before knows, those are all stressful burdens to bear.
On top of those two stressful things, Chris comes home at night and jumps right into parenting. He cooks dinner, plays with Bean, sits with us during bath time, feeds Gracie, and somehow manages to even spend some time with me. All of that is good for our family and I wouldn’t have it any other way, but it’s not exactly relaxing. Chris and I don’t get to bed until about 11:00 or 12:00 and then there’s Gracie’s 4:00am bottle (which I usually do, but it still makes for interrupted sleep for Chris), and both our days start at around 6:00.
Chris and I actually struggle with the same problem. Neither of us speak up and ask for help until we’re at our breaking point. It’s just that my breaking point is a lot lower than Chris’s. So, when CHRIS hits the wall, I’m not quite sure what to do. He makes it really hard to help him. He’s frustrated and that sometimes comes out in angry little snaps. He’s overwhelmed and that sometimes makes him seem like he’s not paying attention to me. He’s tired and that sometimes makes him eerily quiet for days at a time. I never know whether to hug him, help him, or just leave him alone.
We’ve been married for six years. Together for twelve. You’d think I’d have this stuff figured out by now.
But that’s one of the great/sucky things about marriage. We’re not married to characteristics. We’re married to people. And people change. They ebb and the flow. And so do our relationships. Ultimately, I may not know exactly how to stand by him sometimes, but I know that he needs me. And that I need him. Everything else we’ll figure out eventually.
Like, by the time we’re soaking our dentures in glass jars together.
10Jun
After some fancy financial footwork and several “are-you-sure-we-can-do-this” conversations, Chris and I are ready to buy a house again. It’s kind of weird to be house hunting in Florida. We grew up here, but haven’t ever lived here as real adults…with, like, jobs and, like, dependents. It’s kind of strange, but it’s also kind of nice. I think owning a house here in Florida will be the final step to us feeling like this is truly home. Living in rental houses has felt temporary and like camp, in an odd way. Buying a house makes our move here feel final and complete. I’m ready to take that step and I’m really excited about it.
We went out with our realtor last weekend and found a really sweet, neat, clean, beautiful little house. 3 bedroom, 2 bath with a covered pool. Not too shabby! We put an offer in on Tuesday and we found out tonight that the homeowner has decided to take his house off the market. It’s too bad, but I’m sure we’ll find what’s right for us. I feel certain and peaceful about it, which is a nice feeling.
I think I get that feeling because after disappointments and all the stresses of buying a house, I get to come back home to these two clowns…
They pretty much make everything worthwhile.
When we bought our first house in Connecticut, I was in love. I seriously loved that house. It was beautiful and cute and big and pretty. If I were a house, I’d be that house. And then Chris and I went out and spent all this money on new furniture and expensive, top of the line paint and light fixtures and snow shovels. We put our hearts into that house and it showed.
But things are a little different now. My heart doesn’t belong to a house. Now, it belongs to the people that live in that house. I don’t love the house or the yard or the light fixtures. I love the babies rolling around on the floor. I love hearing Chris reading bedtime books to Bean. I love rocking Gracie in the middle of the night. I love wrapping my legs all up in Chris’s as we go to sleep.
I loved that house in Connecticut because of what it represented. It was something big and beautiful that Chris and I did all by ourselves. It symbolized how far we had come.
And now, I love the things inside the house because of what they represent. They are happy and beautiful and Chris and I made them all by ourselves. But unlike a house, Bean and Gracie represent not just how far we’ve come, but how far we have to go.
House hunting this time around is very different. It’s not just about the house anymore. It’s about the lives we’ll be living in the house. And, to me, that’s more valuable than any real estate.
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