April Weeks

 

Life has been peaceful, settled, calm.  Jon and I have been taking the time to just settle into our little family unit.  Strengthen the bonds that bind us and tie us together.  We sat down and had a heart to heart a while back.

 

People say marriage takes work.  I say marriage takes work.  By rights, I went into this marriage thing dysfunctional and blind.  I had no template to say "THIS IS WHAT WORKS. Do this."  Instead, I had the examples of my father and mother's marriages.  Plural.  Marriages.  So my 20's were spent trying to figure how to make this marriage work.  FUGGETABOUTit trying to figure out how to navigate extended family dynamics.

 

Ah.  Then I had kids.  My focus veered very sharply to my kids and ensuring they get the childhood as carefree as Jon and I could provide.  With every leap of faith in trusting others, I was always waiting and expecting to be hurt or my children to be hurt.  When my children were hurt, I'm not sorry to say my momma bear is a bit savage.  My childhood makes my triggers different than Jon's, who had a very normal upbringing.  Things that raised red flags to me, were just a little eyebrow raising to him.

 

Other life events happened and Jon and my marriage was tested from 2007 to 2009.  We've spent the last few years recovering.  Reconnoitering.  Reuniting and reaffirming our faith and love in us.

 

After 16 years together, we still love.  We still laugh together.  We still are together.  Each night, I settle back into my pillow, reach with my foot and with the lightest of touches ensure Jon is there.  This small moment settles everything inside me.  The tenseness of the day drops away.  The solidness of Jon beside me quiets all the worries humming in my head.  My body immediately recognizes strength and safety.

 

Whatever weirdness or however weird that sounds, it is that moment each day that reaffirms, to me, that my place is beside Jon.  Thousands of nights of affirmation.

 

So, yes, my life is blessed.  And sometimes, I just need to write it out, to share. 

 

To remind myself.  To find those moments of peace when my heart can soar.  To remember those moments of soaring, so that when our dreams are crushed, we have the resilience and faith to keep trying to make those dreams come true.

 

I attended a memorial service for Quinlan Faith Martin just a bit ago.  It was the third baby funeral I've attended in recent years.  God blessed me to send these amazing people to my life to remind me to have faith.  Quinlan's time on this earth was 85 blessed days.  By rights the doctors said she never should have been born.  Triploidy is incompatible with life, they said.  Ah, but seeing her each day and hearing about her journey through her parents sharing on Facebook changed me.

So, even when my precious strawberry blonde wails and bemoans her fate of having to wear granny square crochet items her momma made.  Someday I'll tell her the story of Quinlan and those small, petty things will fade.  Quinlan taught me to celebrate and reaffirm my love.