Looking Back and Looking Ahead

My heart is aching today. It has been a year since the Bumper's dad died. This past year has both flown by and passed agonizingly slowly. Last year on this date I was in shock. I was numb that day and for many days thereafter. I was fortunate that I took the chance to make amends and make peace. There are many others who never get to do so.

I still have nightmares, and sleepless nights. There are still times when I close my eyes and I see him as he lay in his hosptial bed. Sometimes I am tormented by the what ifs and if onlys. Every so often a song, a smell, or a place will bring back memories that shake me to the core and nearly bring me to my knees. I am told this will get better with time, but right now I still hurt.

What makes this even harder is the Bumper. I tried as much as I could to shield her from all that happened last November, but she remembers more than I gave her credit for. She asks about him now, she doesn't understand why she can not go visit him with God nor why Goad does not send her daddy back to her. I have no answers to those questions, save only to say I don't know, but God does and we must trust Him even when we do not understand or are angry and in pain. We (the Bumper and I) lit candles for him at church on his birthday, our wedding anniversary, Father's day, and All Souls day. She likes to tell her classmates her daddy is in the clouds with God. I do not dissuade her.

Everyday it gets a little easier. I have our daughter to raise, to enjoy and to spend time with. I am unable to answer all of her questions just yet, but she seems content with my honest responses. As she gets older we will continue to have this conversation, and her questions will get harder, and she will not always like my answers, but we have each other and in the meantime we will keep living the life God has given us the best we can-- as a family.

Today I am sad and that is okay. I will not always be this sad and the holidays won't always be this painful. The Bumper and I have much to look forward to. There are many firsts to explore and many new discoveries to be made, but the past and the future will both have to wait, because I right now I have a sick Bumper to tend to for that too is part of life and the joy I have at seeing her well eclipses all else.

Saying Good-Bye

View from the front porch

I wanted nothing more than to put my fingers in my ears and hum ( I can't hear you ), when my father in law called me to tell me he would be going up to the house in Northern VA last Saturday.
I had not been all the way in that house since I left to visit my mom in January of 2012. Part of me knew that I needed to go, and try and retrieve some of the Bumper's dad 's things so I can share our story withe her when she gets older. Part of me just wanted to hide under the covers. The part that knows what is best for the Bumper won.

The Bumper's Dad

I went back not really knowing what to expect, but hoping to retrieve our wedding album and a few other personal mementos. My brother-in -law tried to warn me: the house was a mess, and I would most likely be torn between wanting to set a match to everything and wanting to keep it all. He was right.

The Bumper and her Daddy

By the time I arrived, my father-in-law, and my husband's uncle had already been there for two hours. They had packed up the kitchen and most of the living room, and put it on a moving truck to be put in storage and sorted through later.

Taking a dip on our Honeymoon

At first I just sort of wandered about, picking things up reminiscing -- "Oh hey, there is the conch from our vacation in Key West or look there is the travel guide to Hawaii from our honeymoon!", and putting them down "Oh yuck! That is vacuum cleaner we had our last argument over." I actually gave that a kick as I went out the door for the last time, childish I know, but it still felt good. Then I started moving through the rooms with purpose trying to find the items I wanted to keep and later share with the Bumper.  I was unable to find our wedding album, but some of the things I did find surprised me. I did not expect to find the St. Francis of Assisi medal I gave him our second year of "Work Camp" for the diocese of Arlington -- we spent a week guiding teenagers as they made repairs to homes in the area-- that was also the year he proposed, I did not expect to find not only his wedding ring, but also the ring I had got engraved for our 1st wedding anniversary, I had meant for it to be blessed on our 10th anniversary. He sent me mine, while I was staying with the Bumper's Nana the first year we were apart, but he kept his.

Everywhere I turned I was confronted by memories of our life together, good and bad. It was so hard, so very very hard and then I saw the bathroom in the master bedroom. He had scrawled a message of such despair that I dropped to my knees as the sobs tore through me. I cried the way I have been wanting to cry since last November. I cried for the good times we shared, I cried for love lost, I cried for who he was and who he became. It was the first time I broke down that day, but it was not the last. When the emotion finally got too much for me to bear I left, taking the champagne glass from our wedding and with tears streaming down my face. From the house I took his wedding ring, the kilt he wore when we went to Renaissance Festivals, the mortar and pestle we used to grind the cloves for the first pumpkin pie we made together, and his five year sobriety chip from AA. These are the things I want to share with the Bumper for these carry a story of love, joy and triumph.

Toes in the water

As sad as I felt, then and still feel, I was able to close a chapter in my life that day. I said good bye in a way I could not at his bedside in the hospital. On that day it was about forgiveness, and peace. Saturday was about saying goodbye to the life we shared together.

In  time I will tell the Bumper of her Dad and his life. First I will tell her the good things, and when she is old enough and ready to hear, I will tell her the rest. Above all I will make sure to tell her that her Dad loved her and wanted her. For at the heart of this is a story of love and an illness that tried to destroy that love, but in the end did not. 

Mourning and Peace

After three weeks of sleepless, harrowing nights, when every sound made me start and reach for the phone, the call finally came. At 9:52pm EST on November 25, 2013 I got the call from the hospital telling me the Bumper's dad had passed away. I knew it was coming, and still I was not prepared. In spite of myself I expected him to pull the proverbial rabbit out of the hat and pull through. I am still expecting to get a phone call or a text message from him telling me that somehow it was all a mistake. I keep pinching myself to be sure this isn't some kind of deranged nightmare. It is all too real. Yet it is quite surreal, and I am told the way I am feeling is quite normal. I know the people who are telling me this mean to be reassuring, I do not feel reassured. I feel sad, angry, relieved, cold, empty and hurt all at once.

The funeral was Monday December 2, 2013. I did not realize, until it happened to me, how hollow the words people say at funerals seem. I must admit I was in shock then, and the shock has not worn off. Underneath is a vault of tears I have yet to open. I know right now I need to  be strong, for the Bumper, and to get through the legal aftermath. My strength comes from the peace I gained on Sunday November 24, 2013. Let me explain.

On Friday November 22, 2013, the hospital called me and said if I wanted to visit with Matt that the coming weekend would be a good time. This announcement filled me with a quaking dread, I wasn't sure I wanted to see him sick, but the hospital kept saying they were trying everything they could and he was still not responding. Saturday proved to be impossible, so I called the hospital on Sunday morning to check to see if he had improved; he had not, in fact he had gotten worse. The Bumper's dad, the hospital told me, was going into liver failure and his kidneys and pancreas were not far behind. The settled it, off we went. Nana, the Bumper, and I drove the six hours to the hospital where the Bumper's dad was being treated.
I had been warned about what to expect when I got to the Medical Intensive Care Unit. I had been told he could not speak, and was in and out of consciousness. On the drive down I wrote him a letter of all the things I wanted to say to him: how I felt about the verbal abuse, the separation, the custody agreement, his illness, everything. I had been warned. I thought I was prepared. I wasn't

The Bumper's dad lay in a bed swollen and jaundiced -- he was the color of a dirty yellow tennis ball, where the whites of his eyes should have been were filled in with blood, and he could do barely more than moan. There was however light in his eyes, his mind was still there, trapped in a body that was slowly failing, I could see his pain and distress I immediately went to him and grasped one of his hands with mine, and placed my other hand on his chest where I could feel his rapid heartbeat. All I had written, except the last two lines, seemed pointless. I knew what I had to say and I said it.

"I forgive you," I said, "I forgive you for the past eighteen month and for everything that led to our separation."

The Bumper's dad closed his eyes, and sighed, his heartbeat slowed and when he reopened his eyes there was a calm and peace that was not there before. Not willing to simply leave it at that I asked him to forgive me if I had in anyway harmed him. The Bumper's did lightly squeezed my hand and I took that for absolution. Peace settled upon the both of us and we were at ease with one another again,
For the next three hours we stayed with our hands together. We reminisced as best we could about the good times we had shared,. I sang him all of his favorite hymns and a few of our favourite songs. A news story came on about the town where we got engaged and the Bumper's dad shook his body as best he could to point it out to me. I am also confident he made his peace with God because he allowed the hospital chaplain to pray with us and when I asked if he wanted a priest to come and give him the sacrament of the anointing of the sick, he gave me a thumb up. I sat with him until the anaesthesiologist came to begin the last treatment the hospital was going to try. Before I left the room I leaned over and one last time told him I had forgiven him, whispered 'I love you' and reminded him of God's love for him. I refused to say good bye instead I said:

"Fare the well, be at peace and if you need to go, rest assured that I will do my best to let the Bumper know how much her dad loved her."

We did not get back home until two in the morning on Monday. At 7:00pm the hospital called and a teleconference was held with the rest of the family (I was unable to go back to the hospital because of the distance), The treatment they had tried the night before was not working, and the hospital had run out of things to try except to make him comfortable. We agreed to let nature take its course and later that night I got the final call.

I will always be grateful that God gave me the chance to reconcile with the Bumper's dad. I am glad I took the chance when it was offered. I can now look my daughter in the eye and share the good things about him without bitterness or feeling false. I cam mourn with out guilt. I take comfort in the look of peace the Bumper's dad had on his face when I left him that night. The tears will come, but for now Peace sustains me.

Blessings,
Kim

Faith, Trust and Carrying On

Warning: If you are expecting a happy carefree post about homemaking, crafts, or Christian living turn back now.

I am not in a happy place right now. I am in a faith filled place, I am in a grateful place, but it is not a happy place. It is more like an angry, grief stricken, shock-y, this is not really happening to me place.
I debated about blogging this, but I know I am not the only person in this situation and sometimes writing out my feelings helps me sort through them.

On Friday, November 8, 2013 at 4:00 in the morning I got one those calls. The ones that only come in the middle of the night or early morning and come with terrible news. A hospital called  asking for my  permission to treat the Bumper's dad because he had ingested Tylenol, aspirin, and rat poison. My first thought was why would anyone over the age of three mistakenly eat rat poison
then came the realization. The Bumper's dad had tried to commit suicide.
Oh.
Dear.
God.
He is now in the hospital's ICU. He has not regained consciousness, he is not responding to external pain stimuli, he is on a respirator, I have been told there is some brain activity.  The doctors have thus far been unwilling, or unable to give me a prognosis-- they do not know if  he will recover or when. It could take up to thirty days for the poison to leave his body. Thirty days of uncertainty. Thirty days for me to deal with my pain, anger and grief.

Even with everything that had passed between us, with the verbal abuse, I  was still cognizant that this was someone I had once loved enough to marry and have a child with. So I feel betrayed--again.
It hurts to know that he was in so much pain that he thought dying was better than living. Then I get angry, because he kept telling me how much he loved his daughter and all I can think is : Well if you loved her so much, why did you do this to yourself? What about the Bumper? What do I tell her? Best case scenario is he recovers fully and this incident never gets mentioned.  Other options include having to explain to her why he chose to end his life, or why he is so incapacitated that he can not be a father to her. For there are things worse than death.

For example as the legal spouse I have medical power of attorney by default, so I may be called upon to make end of life decisions for someone who should still be in his prime. At the risk of sounding completely selfish: I am so not prepared for this. I do not understand this. Someone said to me recently, after I had explained the situation that many people in my position might have committed suicide themselves or at the very least dived headfirst into a bottle. Neither is an option for me.
Firstly I believe my life is a gift from God and I do not have the right to take it and secondly I am the Bumper's mother. I love her and she needs me. How could I abandon her? As to diving into the bottle-- I will have five years sobriety this November and I am not going to lose that. Anyway it would not do any good, because I certainly would not be able to take care of the Bumper in a drunken stupor and hangovers are a pain.

 So what am I doing? How have I gotten through the last few days without going completely insane?
I have relied on God. I have prayed. I have put my trust in the Lord. It has not been easy. I have read the Bible and called friends to have them pray with me. It helps, but only so much because I am still very human. I get up, I make breakfast, I go through our daily routine. I give and accept hugs from the Bumper. I smile with her as she points out with childish delight the trees arrayed on scarlet and gold. I laugh when a much anticipated rain shower does not produce the lovely splashing puddles she so wanted to jump in.

In the midst of sorrow life still goes on. I am praying for those in the Philippines affected by the Typhoon and grateful my friends are safe. I am trying to look beyond what is going on in my life and reach out to others. I am simply carrying on.

Blessings,
Kim

Weekend Reflections

This weekend I took the Bumper to visit her dad at the hospital. It was a sobering visit. She barely recognized him and he recognized her, but could barely speak. Once she got her courage back, she started chatting merrily to him. The Bumper told her dad all about the kittens, planting the garden, and building a tower of rocks in the hospital courtyard. Then she turned to me and asked if Daddy was sick, to which I replied that he was and with all the seriousness that a two and half year old can muster, she told me to go home so we could get her medicine from her doctor and make her daddy better. Ah, the faith of a child!

For me the visit was quite a shock, I knew he was ill but I did not really understand how badly. I now know. I am still trying to processes this. All I can think, is that none of us know how much time we are given and every day is precious (all the more important to remember today when the Bumper has made more messes than I can clean and completely frazzled my nerves).

A friend sent me this verse: "My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength  is made perfect in weakness." 2 Corinthians 12:9.

Very appropriate and very timely, as I try to repay hurt with kindness.

Blessings

Kim

Meatless Monday and other Musings

Meatless Monday

Hmm! I didn't even know there was such a thing, but since I am trying to give my daughter a better example this is what our Meatless Monday looks like:

Breakfast - Oatmeal with rasberries, blueberries, and soymilk.
Lunch- Peanut Butter & Jelly, carrots and peaches.
Supper- either Spinach with diced tomatoes and curried chick peas or lentils, rice and broccoli

When in stress I bake, and over the weekend my stress meter went through the roof.
I was once again in contact with the hospital caring for the Bumper's Dad. They informed me they would be sending him to rehabilitation. Ok fine. A few blocks from my mom's house. Not fine.
I freaked. I barely even heard the nurse tell me how all the doctors agreed it would be better for his recovery if he were near family. When I finally calmed down, I realized he does have other family here, his Dad is here, his grandmother, aunts and uncles. The doctors were not intentionally trying to make my life difficult, they were trying to look after the best interest of their patient. I had to take a deep breath and realize that right now the Bumper's  Dad is not in a position to harm me, I could choose to be mean- spirited or I could put aside my grievences and help out. I have chosen the latter because it is not in the Bumper's best intrest for me to refuse. That being decided, I was stressed out so I broke out the recipies and started cooking. I made snikerdoodles, hot chocolate snickerdoodles, banana "ice-cream" and blue-berry jam. When I was done I felt a lot better. My waistline on the other hand? Well, that is a different story. Any body need two dozen vegan snicker doodles?

Kim

One of Those Days

I wanted to write about the Granny Triangle Madness that has consumed me the last couple of days thanks to the marvelous Lucy at Attic24, but that will have to wait. Today was one of those days that probably belongs in a country music song, one filled with crazy ex's and utter chaos.

My plan for the day was to get up make a wholesome breakfast for the Bumper, pick up the baby sitter, run a couple of errands, write a down the pages that are burning a hole in my head on my new novel, fix  nutritious  lunch, and then blog a bit.
That is not what happened. Instead I got a phone call from the hospital treating the Bumper's dad, informing me that they were considering transferring him to another facility because he was unable to carry out the functions of daily living.

WHOAH!! WHAT?! That was the last thing I expected to hear. My mind started spinning and I  had to sit down. I knew could get really sick if he stopped taking his medications, but I hadn't that it would damage him so badly. It has.

I started making phone calls to friends and family trying to get a handle on things, because in spite of how badly I feel for him (and I do ) certain things have not changed. The condition he has did not make him verbally abusive, that was his choice, nor did it make him change the locks and forbid me to set foot in the home we once shared, it did not cause him to curse me out in a public parking lot. These were things he did all on his own, while taking his medicines. I did not hide his medicines, or call the pharmacy and tell them to stop supplying them. He made that decision. What has happened is not my fault.

So now I am trying to figure out all the legal ramifications for the Bumper and myself.

Yet in spite of the heavy, I am thankful. My little Bumper still laughs and smiles, and throws the most terrific tantrums (especially today when I am not doing so good). She is a healthly, willful two and half year old.

I would like to hide like a small child does in a thunderstorm, but I can not. My small child still needs me. The Bumper needs me to be the parent. To love, to correct, to be strong. So I will, but late at night when only my Saviour can see or hear me then I will surrender to tears and be willingly held in my Heavely Father's arms. God has the power to comfort me and to see me through... and he will.

Blessings,

Kim.

P.S. there will be Granny Triangle Madness soon. I promise.

Sticks and Stones

" Stick and Stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."

 I learned this adage as a child, but it is not true. Words do hurt. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally. The nasty comments, the slurs, the curses these stay with me a lot longer than the compliments.

I had been hopeful that things might be looking up for M and I, but we have settle back into our old pattern of hurled insults and tears : him with the insults and me with the tears.

Last Saturday I took the Bumper up to see M. We met in a neutral location- his church. I took the Bumper to him, no sooner than we had arrived he shoved a piece of paper that would have made changes to out visitation agreement under my nose and ordered me to sign. I have made it a long standing practice never to sign anything without reading it, so I refused. He went into a rage and and started yelling at me and telling me how untrustworthy I was and he wouldn't have to do this if I didn't lie to him all the time. M then proceeded to curse and call my mother the "N" word because she was waiting out side in the car. I was stunned. I didn't know what to say. We were in public, there were lots of people around and he still felt free to verbally attack me. I did the only thing I could I left.

Three days later I am still reeling. I keep wondering if his accusations are true, if I really am a bad mother, and a horrible person. Self-doubt and worry crowd out all other thoughts. Yet I  put my faith and trust in the Lord and I take comfort in Psalm 37.

There are days when I wonder if all this pain and turmoil is worth it, then I see the Bumper smile and greet her Nana with a hug, I watch her play with the backyard kittens, and squeal with delight when she gets ready for her bath, and I know God wants me to stay right where I am.

Thoughts on Love and Marriage

 M and I are redefining our relationship. Right now we are in a separation. We both have a lot of things we need to work through. Our relationship has been severely damaged. I left because I couldn't stand being abused verbally and emotionally. I know there are some in the Christian community who would say I have not given our marriage a chance, and that I should stay with my husband. This is something I struggle with daily. I wanted so much to be a Titus 2 woman, a Proverbs 31 wife and a keeper at home. I often second guess myself, but at the same time I know God did not create marriage for suffering and abuse. A marriage should be joyful -- not always happy -- but always loving. I believe in Biblical headship, I wanted my husband to be the head of our family and to lead us in prayer and faith and worship. BUT that is not the man I married. In my experience he asked for servility not submission, humiliation rather than humility. He even began to use my faith against me. I have my faults, make no mistake, I am a sinner redeemed by Christ and that does not mean I will not continue to stumble and fall during my walk with him. I take heart from second Timothy: 1:7.

Speaking my Truth

When I started this blog I had high hopes of writing of the ordinary joys and sorrows of middle –class homemaker. I envisioned posts about writing poetry, my growing baby girl, my crafts and hobbies, baking, housekeeping, and my walk with Jesus. However I have found my self in a verbally and emotionally abusive marriage. I still want to blog, but I have to be truthful. My entries may be painful to write, and painful to read, but they will be real.

I hope by sharing my experience I can be of service to others in similar situations.

Yours in Christ
Kim

The Man Cave

Matt and I are doing some rearranging, and things are bit -- okay a lot-- more chaotic around here than normal. I am not generally a super neat and tidy person, but even this has me rattled. When we first moved into home, everything was in complete disarray, the movers packed things randomly without labeling which room the boxes came from or went into. For example I might unpack a box sitting in the kitchen, only to find all the stuff in it belonged to the bedroom, or bathroom etc... Then a little more than a week later the bumper was born. (I would definitely not recommend moving and immediately having a baby.)  Our friends and family rallied and helped us. The house was put in some semblance of order and it has remained in that state for the last six months. WE are slowly finding places for everything and throwing or giving away what we no longer need. The last part of this is the MAN CAVE.

What is a Man Cave? It is a place the man of the place can claim as his. The Man Cave is a place free from feminine meddling. A wife does not and should not clean or judge what is in the Man Cave.  In Mat’s case it is a place he can store his electronic stuff and tinker to his heart’s content.

  Originally we sectioned off a bedroom and part of the finished basement. (I had had dreams of Christmases spent sipping hot apple cider in front of the fire place in the other part.) That turned out to be a bad idea. The man cave spread. I kept finding drill bits in the living room, circuit boards in the kitchen, and tools on all three levels of our town house. Enough was enough.

We came to the sane decision that a split man cave just was not working. All of Matt's stuff needed to be in one place. So a couple of weekends ago we began the process of moving things from the upstairs bedroom to the basement. It has worked wonders, even though we still have a lot work to do to finish the transfer. He has a place to unwind after a day at the office and I peace of mind.

 What about those Christmases in front of the fire? I have gladly traded them in for the knowledge that my now mobile bumper will not be stuffing solder into her mouth.