Sunday Thoughts: Your Spouse Can't Heal You

By Amy

I love Patrick!  Ha, he looks so baby-face without his goatee. :)

*Here on SOM, we talk about the things that matter most to us--for many of us that includes our faith and religious beliefs.  I hope that we can all show respect and learn from each other's perspectives, even if they are different from our own.  My story includes my faith in Christ and how He has strengthened me individually and in my marriage.  Thank you for allowing me to open my heart to you!*

You know how when you're first married, older couples look at you, chuckle, and sigh, "Oh newly-wedded bliss!"  Well, sometimes hearing that made me feel pretty crappy.

For us, the first few months were a little less than blissful.  It's hard to admit this too, because I don't want you to think, "Oh man, they have a rocky marriage..."  Cause I am--and forever will be--so grateful to have my loving, kind, funny Patrick for a husband.  Life is good!  :)  But, we had to get to this point.  The truth is: though it's wonderful, marriage isn't perfect.  It's two people coming from different backgrounds trying to become one family unit: unless you are both super easy-going people, with fabulous communication, there's bound to be some issues.  I mean, guys and girls think and react differently and every person has their own unique way of seeing things.  For us, we had to hash out some of these differences right at the beginning.

We had both lived independently for several years and we were used to doing things our own way, without needing someone else's approval.  Suddenly, we were a married couple and we were having a hard time figuring out how to constructively handle differences of opinions.

One night, after a "fight" (we weren't the yelling-and-throwing-things type...we just mostly got hurt and quiet and withdrew from each other) I was laying in bed next to my husband after our nightly prayer.  I wanted to finish talking through the conflict, but he turned over and wanted to let it be.  I wondered, "Doesn't everybody say, "Never go to bed angry?  Aren't we supposed to resolve this now?  Are we going to fail if we can't communicate?"  Tears of frustration and worry about us slid down my face, soaking my pillow.  Though I was right next to my husband, I felt alone.  I was silently willing him to turn to me and say, "I'm sorry.  Let's figure this out.  I love you."

But, he didn't.

I quietly cried, and thought, "I'm sure he knows I'm crying.  Why doesn't he reach out to me?"

I lay there till I couldn't take it anymore.  I slipped out of bed, walked into the living room, and curled up on the couch.  My heart was aching and I needed him to come to me: I didn't need him to tell me I was right, and he was wrong--I just needed him to put his arms around me and to reassure me that he loved me despite the conflict.

After waiting in the dark, cold living room, listening to the clock tick for a long time, the harsh realization came: He is not coming.

I felt crushingly dissapointed by the man who I loved so much.  Sobs shook me as I wondered, "How could he let me suffer alone?"  I ached and cried to my Heavenly Father.  I was so confused--I knew I had made the right decision to marry Patrick--I had felt God's approval and guidance throughout our relationship, unlike I'd ever felt with any other boy.  So why was marriage proving to be so hard?  Why weren't conflicts easy to talk through?  Weren't we supposed to be full of newly-wedded bliss?  And, WHY wasn't Patrick coming to me and making it better?!

When I was all cried out, I lay there sniffling, curled up on the loveseat of our tiny basement apartment, and pondered.  In the quiet, the thought came: "You are looking to the wrong source for healing."

It was so powerful-- a gentle reminder from my loving Heavenly Father.  After pondering this for a few minutes, I again began to pray.  I told my Father how my heart was aching.  I explained that I knew it was good and right for Patrick and I to be husband and wife, but we were having a rough time figuring out how to live together, communicate well, and cooperate.  I told Him that I knew my Savior had already felt my worry and loneliness, and tonight I desperately needed Him to comfort me.

Immediately, a warm peace filled my empty and aching heart with God's love.  Not many times in my life have I had such a dramatic and immediate answer to prayer...often my answers come with time and patience, but this time, He granted relief as soon as I asked.  Though it may seem like a small thing, to my hurting soul, this was a miracle!

I marveled at the complete love that filled me and basked in it.  With grateful tears in my eyes, I thanked Him for His kindness and for healing my heart.  And, though I was exhausted and my eyes raw, His love was enough.  I took my weary body back to bed, and slipped in next to my husband.

Who was completely deep in sleep.

Wow.  He wasn't stonily ignoring my pain, he was just...sleeping!  Ha--He didn't even know that I was distraught!  It was almost comical how I had expected him to read my mind and come to my rescue, while he was dead asleep.  Over time I've realized he is more of a "let's sleep on it, and talk about it in the morning when we're not so tired." kind of guy.  And that's fine!

This experience was life changing.  I learned that I can't expect that my husband will be able to do/be everything that I need.  He can't "make" me happy or fix all my hurts and worries.  At times he will even be the cause of my pain or disappointment...cause, guess what--he's human!  And there have been and will definitely still be many times that I disappoint and frustrate him--Cause I'm human too!

Also, he can't read my mind.  The only ones who fully and completely know my heart and my thoughts, my desires, and motivations, are my Heavenly Father and His Son.  Jesus Christ knows my  every sorrow, hurt, heartache, guilt, and worry.  He felt my pain and paid for my sins.  

Sometimes, I have to remember, if I am sad or frustrated, and I look to my husband, like, "Why don't you make this better?" then I am asking him to heal me.  And, that is not his role.  He is my partner, my companion, my soundboard, my love, and closest friend--But he is not my Savior.  Just like that gentle reminder to me when I sobbed on the couch, only Christ can fill the role of Savior and Healer.  My husband can give me love, support, and comfort, but true and complete healing only comes through the power of Christ's atonement.  And, I can't fix my hub either.  We both have to turn to the Lord as individuals and as a couple.  If do all that I can to make life good (even when it's not easy) and rely on my Savior--He will fulfill me.  His love will radiate through me as I reach out to my husband, children, neighbors, and every person I meet.  (In other words, let your light so shine!  Mathew 5:14-16)  His love will enable me to be more Christ-like and be a better spouse.  It was eye-opening to see that I had unrealistic expectations of my spouse and of marriage in general.

Now, we are SO much better at being married folks.  It's crazy to think back on that night and how sad I was.  And even though it seems a bit dramatic now, I feel protective of the vulnerable girl I was on that night, and grateful to her for accepting a humbling message from the Lord and for her desire to change.  You know what?  I'm SO glad to be done with the newlywed time.  I like being a couple years in.  (three and a half...woot woot!  Haha...I know, we're babies.)  We're comfortable in our marriage.  It feels safe and warm.  It's a joy to share my life with such a good man who makes me laugh all the time.  Seeing him with our baby boy makes my heart swell with love and gratitude.  We try to see the good in each other and forgive each other for mistakes (like he did when I accidentally left a half gallon of acrylic paint in the living room and my toddler dumped it all over the carpet...NOT cool.)   Of course we still have conflicts and get super bugged at each other, but we try to let go of the small stuff, and talk out the important stuff. (and I try to remember that he usually isn't ready to discuss it immediately, but needs some time)  This is soooo much better than both our natural reactions to conflict--retreating from each other and being silent.  So, we aren't perfect, but we're both trying.  And God fills in the gaps.

I believe with all of my heart that regardless of marital status (single, divorced, etc) or problems in a marriage, when we are doing all we can to follow Christ, we will feel love, peace, and fulfillment.  Even in trials.  I'm not just saying that either...I know it and I've felt it.  I believe in the Savior's promise to each of us that He will carry our burdens.  And all of us will go through some really bad crap in this life--heavy, heavy burdens that make us tremble under the weight.  Though I don't know what each of your hidden battles are, I do know that God does.  He loves you.  He sent His Son for you, and through the Savior, you can be lifted and strengthened and healed--He's just waiting for you to turn to Him!

Friends, thank you for letting me open my heart to you! :)  I gotta get cheesy for a minute and tell you that I love you!  It's been amazing to feel your support, read your stories, and hear your comments since starting this blog.  And because I love you, I wanted to share with you what means the most to me: my faith in God and His Son.  Whatever your beliefs, I hope you know and believe that YOU have so much worth--because you do! 
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Ps. I'd love to hear your thoughts, comments, and experiences about finding joy in marriage!  How does your spirituality impact your relationship with your spouse?  And, if you appreciated this post, please Like/Share so others can join in the conversation!  Thank you!  :)

What YOU have to say is important and worthwhile; We'd love to hear from you!  So...don't forget I'm looking for ladies (...Like YOU! :) ) to share stories, experiences, insights, tips, projects, etc. here on SOM!  It's fun to guest post...please check out the "Wanna contribute?" tab on the right margin and contact me for more deets!

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Young

By Amber
Introduced by Amy 

Amber and I were acquaintances in high school, then became good friends when we sang by each other in choir. (WOO WOO, altos!)  Amber was so cool: she was beautiful, friendly, kind, a dang good singer, and...really she was just more mature than most of us.  Not in a boring way--no, she just didn't get caught up in stupid high school drama.  I really liked that about her.  When I found out that she is the oldest in her family her maturity made sense; she probably helped in her home a lot growing up.  When I heard that Amber got married, I was like, "Dang!" cause I still felt young and SHE was in the grade below me!  But, I knew, if anyone could be a wife and mom at our age, Amber could. 

I saw her later when a few friends and I got together to preform a song in church back in our hometown; she was just as cool, fun, and pretty as ever--she was just a mom now too! 

I really appreciate Amber bravely opening up and telling her story, especially when many in society look down on those who marry young.  But as Amber said, you got to do what feels right no matter what others think!  She's still wise beyond her years.
-Amy

20 years young.  That’s how old I was when my husband and I decided to start our family.

I was even younger when we got married.  18 years and 6 months young to be exact.  What’s even more crazy, is that I didn’t think I was ‘that young’ at the time.  You hear people say all the time that when you fall in love, you just know.  I had no idea what they really meant, but after being on ONE date with my husband, a mere week after high school graduation, I knew I had caught the love bug.  We were married 6 months after our first date.

I could tell that a lot of people were stand-offish about me getting married at my age, but I didn’t even care.

Some friends could only say, 'Wow. You’re getting married?'  I would just smile and exclaim, 'YES! I’m SO excited!'

And I was.  I had never been happier.

Fast forward a year and a half, just a little after my 20th birthday.

One day after I got home from work, I decided to pee on yet another one of those silly sticks (I had gone through many in the 3-4 months prior), and my heart stopped.  And then it started racing at 100 miles per hour.  It was positive!  Was I seeing things?  No, it really was there!  We were pregnant!  I couldn’t contain my excitement and called my hubs right away.  The first thing he said was, "Are you sure? Try not to get too excited, okay?"

Don’t get excited? Ya right. Being a mom was the only thing I had ever wanted to be, and now it was happening.  Fast forward again to 4 weeks later. (I swear… those weeks you have to wait until you go to your first prenatal checkup are killer!)  My poor hubby had gotten a stomach bug and said he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to make it to the appointment.  Honestly, I was a little disappointed.

Luckily, my awesome mom was able to get off work early and come with me.  I was so nervous with butterflies that I couldn’t even think straight.  At that time, my doctor’s office was in the hospital, and well, I got lost.  So lost, that they had to send a nurse out to find me.  Haha.  Seriously, I was a mess!

Well, we finally got back and it was time for the ultrasound.  I actually remember not wanting to look at the screen thinking I would jinx myself or something.  Then then I heard it.  It was a sweet, beautiful, perfect sound.  I looked over and there ‘it’ was.  My baby.  Our baby.  All I could do was smile because I think if I had actually tried to say anything, I would have started blubbering uncontrollably.

The following months rushed by and soon we were getting ready to meet our baby boy a week before his due date.  I had went in for a regular checkup, and after running some tests, my doctor throws the door open and says, "We need to induce you now. Which hospital did you want to deliver at so we can tell them you are on your way?" After 24 hours of labor and a long horrible hour of hard pushing, we was finally here!

I remember the pure joy I felt when my doctor placed him on my belly.  I wanted to kiss him and hold him and never let him go.  The pure happiness and joy that I felt when I had got married had multiplied by a million.

Although I was ‘young’ according to the outside worlds’ standards, I never felt too young or overwhelmed by having to grow up so fast.  I’m not trying to say that I was supermom and say that I never got tired or never cried, but I truly felt that being a mom was what I was meant to do.  That’s what kept me going through all of the continuous feedings and endless crying, and I wouldn’t change any of it for all of the riches in the world.

Our little guy is now 5 years old and now has a 2 year old sister, so I’m definitely not ‘young’ anymore.

People still get a shocked look on their face when we tell them how young we were when we got married and started having kids, but when you know it’s right for YOU, just go with it.

Everyone is different.  For others it may not be right to marry young--that's ok too!

My philosophy: don’t let others get you down for your decisions, and don’t judge others for theirs. :)
 - Amber

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Thanks, Amber!  Isn't she cool?  I am amazed by how she does what she feels is right, and doesn't let the criticizers sway her.  She amazes me too, cause I was needed a lot more time than her to grow up before I was ready to get married!  I still felt young and unprepared when I had a baby, and I had 6 years on her! :)  But, that's probably every first-time mom, regardless of age.  Things are much better now, but, oh, that first night home from the hospital...YIKES. That was a cold dose of reality for me!  Ha!

How about you?  How old were you when you got married or started a family?  Did others question your choice if you were young?  If you were older, did you get pressure from others, for NOT being married?  We'd love to hear from you. :)

PS. Google reader croaked, so be sure to follow SOM on Bloglovin', Feedly, or what ever you use to hear more awesome stories from ladies just like you!  (Wondering how?  Just click the link two sentences above and sign up for a Bloglovin account, or click the happy little button up at the top of this blog!  I just switched over to Bloglovin, myself...it was pretty simple and painless, thank goodness.)  

Also, please show your love and support, by "liking" Swag on momma on Facebook.  (Oh, look at that! There's also a handy little button for that too, up on the side of the blog! :)   ALL are welcome to join the par-TAY!  THANK YOU, FRIENDS!

And, last of all, if you'd like to share a story here, please do!  I'll love you forever! :)   Check out the button (It says, "wanna contribute?") on the side of the blog for details.  I'm excited to hear from you! :)
-Amy

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Living With the In-Laws: 9 Tips to Keep it Happy

Patrick with his little bros, Dusty, Ross and Tad!

Have you and your husband ever lived with family since getting married?  

Patrick, baber, and I are about to go stay with my parents Mon-Fri for a month and a half while Patrick has a clinical in the town next to my parents.  We will come back to our humble abode on the weekends so we can still go to our church.

I'm excited to spend some time with my folks--cause I like them a lot.  I'm also excited because I get to hike the foothills behind their house for my daily exercise and my mom's going to teach me how to sew.  She tried to back when I was younger, but alas, I was a brat and fought hard against learning any (insert teenage eye roll) "homemaking skills", therefore, I am sorely lacking.  Hayden will love yanking on the cat's tail and pulling the dogs fur, since we don't have any pets.  And, happy day--I'll get to take him for hang outs or playdates with my childhood, high school, and college friends that I don't see enough of anymore!

So, although I am excited, there is a little nervous mixed in.  It's such a funky dynamic to be a married, adult couple, living with another married, adult couple--especially when that couple happens to be my parents.  It's like an identity crisis: trying to mix being a the kid I used to be WITH being an adult living with my husband.

Funky.

But, this won't be the first time for us.  Patrick and I lived with our in-laws for a couple months right after Hayden was born and Patrick graduated.  He found a good-paying summer job working for Pepsi, close to where they live in Wyoming, so we decided we'd stay with them to save some cash before grad school sucked us dry.  

Though it logically seemed like a sweet deal, I was apprehensive, because I had a two month old baby, who cried alot.  I was scared my inlaws would think, "Who in the world have you gone and married?  This twit can't even calm her own child!" and I was scared I'd get Hayden down for a nap, and the three teenaged brothers would come thumping down the stairs, waking my babe into screams.  Plus, I also worried that Haydens' horrible night sleep habits would wake the whole family every night. (ha--which they did.)

Please, don't get me wrong, I truly love my inlaws and the whole Graham clan.  I feel WAY lucky when I hear in-law horror stories, cause mine are so cool!  It's just that they are a bit different from my family.  My family is fun and crazy, but...the Grahams have a Lot more boys and a lot more hollering. (Example: "Were you BORN IN A BARN!? Put your dishes in the sink, DOUGHNUT-HEAD!!"...haha, direct quote!)  Impromptu wresting matches in the living room, are common.  But, man do they love.  They love each other, they serve each other, and they reach out to other people and welcome them into their homes.  I love that.

I was just worried about sharing our space.  And, about being scrutinized when I was highly self-conscious about my first-time mothering abilities.

But, I prayed that whatever would be best would work out, then right after that, Patrick got the job.  SO.  I took a deep breath, decided to quit being nervous, and just jumped in!

Yes, there were some daily-life changes.  You don't walk around wrapped in only a towel after your shower.  You don't have as much privacy and you do have to knock before entering the bathroom (I never wanted to walk in on one of my little bros-in law taking a leak....ha, no thanks.)

But, despite any minor inconveniences, I was pleasantly surprised by how pleasant it was!  And, being there was probably a life-saver for me.  I wasn't isolated at home all day with a brand new baby (I struggled a lot at first when he was born), Hayden had other people to entertain him, and best of all, I had a lot of fun getting to know Patrick's family better.  I understand their groove now, and it was so cool that they could be part of a few milestones for Hayden, since he's their only grandchild.

From my experience, I can offer a few words of advice to any married couple (with or without kids) who decide to live with any other family members.

1. Be prepared.  

Discuss with your spouse beforehand and then with your in-laws (or other family members) what is expected.  Talk about plans.  Make a list of questions to go through. If you are sharing a kitchen, will you have meals together?  Who will cook?  Will you share food?  Will you pay any rent?  (Like if they have a separate basement apartment?)  Or utilities?  Figure out what will make this work best for everyone involved (within reason).  Ex: I had a newborn, and I knew that we needed two rooms.  So, instead of opting for the nice (but a little smaller) guest bedroom, we asked my husband's teenage brother if he would let us use his bedroom for the summer, so we could use the storage room next to it as Hayden's bedroom.  He is awesome, and totally agreed, and we all helped him move his stuff upstairs to the guest room.  I am SO glad I was assertive on that.  Having two rooms was SO helpful.  I still had my own room I could go in and out of when Hayden took naps in his crib, and Patrick, who got up at 4:30 in the morning to get to his job, didn't wake up our baby.  With a swing, a changing table, a crib and a rocking chair, I was SO grateful that everything wasn't all crammed in our bedroom.

2. Make time for just you and your spouse.  

You still need to feel like your own little family unit.  Still cleave to each other.  And, whichever spouse's family it is, they need to be careful not to revert back to childhood behaviors, aka, not sassing back to parents,  fighting/nagging siblings, etc.  That gets REAL awkward REAL fast for the other spouse.  Make sure your spouse who this didn't grow up in this fam, feels comfortable.  And, make sure you get out of the house now and then for a hot date...and a little makin' out in the car.

3. Help out. (Aka: Don't be a lazy freeloader.) 

Be a blessing, not a burden.  Choose some way to contribute.  Pick a night or two a week to make dinner.  Do the dishes.  Take out the garbage when it's full.  Offer to help.  (I did the breakfast dishes after everyone left for school every morning.)  And, for goodness sake, pick up after yourself!  Keep the bathroom clean that you use, do your own laundry, don't leave your shoes and socks lying around...just cause you're living with parents, doesn't mean you have permission to act like a child.  I'm not saying you need to become the maid, but, ya know...just help out.

4. With Siblings, DON'T try to be second parents!

Do get to know them better and have fun with them.  If there's a beef, state your issue kindly, or ask their parents for help. But, it IS ok to get after them when they are constantly trying to give your infant icecream! (TAD!)

5. Remember gratitude

Don't take for granted that they are letting you stay in THEIR space.  Thank them.  And, when it comes to asking them to babysit, now and then is fine, but don't abuse it and make them your built-in babysitters.

6. Make the most of this time! 

This is such an awesome opportunity to become closer, especially if this is your husband's parents.  So get involved!  Make the effort to get to know them, do things they enjoy, ask about their interests, etc.  I talked about kids and teaching from my mother-in law and learned a ton from her expereince.  My father-in-law (a retired finish carpenter) and I talked houses and spent hours looking at cool home designs on Houzz.com. (Never heard of it?  Careful, it's addicting!  Think Pinterest, but just for homes.)  My bros in law and I went on walks, showed each other cool new music, and watched movies.  As a family, we sodded their back yard and put in a fire pit, went to the county fair, played mini golf, and ate pizza at a little local joint (a couple times).  It's fun to be social, so don't isolate yourself.

I know, it's a tricky balance between being involved and still being your own little entity.  You don't want to be all up in their space, (and up in their biz...stay out of family spats) but don't go too far the other way and act like a hermit in their home.

Patrick and son using the new fire pit!  Check out that grass, too!  Fab, huh?

Grandma Graham (G.G.) holding Hayden so I can give him his first solid food!  (We didn't have a high chair with us in WY)

G.G. and Hayden!  But, he was distracted by something behind me, haha..

Hayden and Uncle Dusty...look how happy he is!  So cute! :)

Chilling on the back porch.  This is when only half the sod was down.

Getting tickled by Grampy.  (Bald runs thick in this fam!  Ha!  Hayden, behold you future.)

7. Even if it's awesome, don't stay too long.

Being connected with fam is great, but you and your husband are your own mini family unit now--that's how it should be!  It's best to have your own place, so if you don't have a permanent ending date for your time living with fam, set a goal for one and work towards it.  Plus, it's good not to "wear out your welcome."  At the end of the summer, we moved to our new home (rented top floor of a cute house) for my husband to start his grad program.  It was a fun summer and I feel closer to my husband's fam....but, it's just so dang cool to enjoy our own place again!  And they can always come visit! :)

Moral of the story, my friends: Though it's not the ideal for a married couple to live with family (like I said, it's good to make it temporary) staying with family can end up being a super positive experience for everyone.
Make the best of it! :)
-Amy

UPDATE AND DISCLAIMER:
These tips help emotionally healthy adults get along in the same space.  If your inlaws (or any family member you are contemplating staying with) are CRAZY or in other ways dysfunctional (examples: give silent treatments, will try to become the mother of your children, ignore you and dote upon your spouse--their son) then DON'T LIVE WITH THEM IF AT ALL POSSIBLE!  The strain on your marriage isn't worth it.  Just thought I'd include this, since I've heard LOTS of crazy inlaw stories since writing this post! :)  Haha!

Thank you.

P.S. How about you?  Have you and your hub lived with family?  If so, how was it?  Any other advice you'd offer?  I'd love to hear your thoughts! :)

P.S.S. I'll update you and let you know how it's going living with my fam!

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The Life of a Full-time Mom with a Full-time Job

Amy's Interview with Tamara 

Now that we've heard from a grad student turned stay-at-home momma (if you missed it, be sure to read Sarah's awesome post), here's the perspective of a momma who works full-time.  Introducing: my neighbor and friend, Tamara!  She's got three cute kids, one of which is a little boy who probably knows more about superheros than the author of Marvel comics.  My favorite thing about Tamara: she's super friendly and easy to talk to.  When I met her, I was nervous to be in a new church congregation; but she, along with some other awesome ladies, took me in like a lost puppy and helped me feel welcome and included.

My second favorite thing about Tamara: she loves books and she's willing to share! :)  She feeds my addiction and keeps me supplied with many good reads, resulting in late nights and plenty of "Ughhh...why the crap did I read till 3 am?!" hangovers the following mornings.  She's also intelligent, witty, and...Canadian!  Cool, huh? 

I'm so glad she agreed to tell us about how she balances being a mom and a full-time teacher.  Since she is so busy--and just had a sweet little babe--I thought an interview would be a better idea than asking her to sit down and write a post.  Infants can be quite demanding on the time.  Enjoy, friends!
-Amy

Q: Ok, Tamara: first of all, kids and ages, please?

A: Emily is 6, Collin is 4, and Kate is 2 weeks old.

Q: What do you do for your job?

A: I teach special education, specifically remedial reading and math.  I started teaching in January of 2002 and I’ve taught special ed. for 11 years: 1st grade up through high school.  I also created a program that allows learning disabled students to meet specific requirements so they can earn an alternative diploma, since they aren't able to get a traditional one.  Now I’m teaching at a middle school.  I like this age.  Under 4th grade is not my favorite to teach.

Q: How do you make it work, being a mom and teaching full-time?

A: When Emily was born, I stayed home for 7 months.  In Canada, they give you 65 percent of your pay for maternity leave.  Landon (my husband) was able to take time off for the next 5 months.  It  made it easy that Landon could be home.  I was lucky to live a block away from the school; I'd go home at lunch to nurse.

For the next year, when Landon worked, she would go to my mom’s house, who lived about two blocks away.  When Collin was born, I stayed home for the first 6 months, then I went back to work 4 days a week.  During the day, my mom would have Collin and Emily till noon, then she would drop them off at my classroom, where I would nurse Collin in my office during lunch.  Then, when Landon got off work a little after noon, he would pick the kids up from my school and take them home.  Collin would never take a bottle--he refused--so I had to hurry home after school to feed him.

We moved to Idaho when my husband started the Radiographic Sciences Program.  He watches the kids when he's not at school, and during his classes, my sister or my good friend, Kira, watches them.

Before I had kids, Landon and I decided that because my job was so stressful, all paperwork and school work needed to stay at school.  I work through lunches when I need to, and stay after, but I work quickly and get all paperwork done at school.  My job has a high burn-out rate: 2-5 years.  I’m grateful I love my job, but I’m also grateful I have a husband who helps me to keep the separation between work and home.  We’ve been very blessed: I have always had to work, but I’ve always had supportive employers who would work around my schedule as a mom.  Like one time Emily got hurt (she tried to knock out her teeth) in the middle of a school day.  We only had one car, so I had to run home and take her to the dentist.  I left my Paras (aides) in charge of my classroom, and my boss was fine with out.  There's been a few times when our babysitters weren't available, when I've brought my kids to school.  Emily has been to my class here about 5 times, Collin a couple times.  My boss doesn't mind, as long as they don’t disrupt my class.  They like coming; I’ll give them headphones and they’ll play on educational websites, or I'll get my students to read books to them or explain their math.  Emily was showing off her math skills and they all thought she was a genius!  My students love it when my kids come.

Q: What are your future plans for work/family?

A: I’m hoping next year I’ll teach a few days a week and do paperwork at home on the other days.  If it doesn’t work, I’d like to sub, cause I don't want to go back full-time.  After Landon is done with school and is working full-time, I'd like to take a break for a few years until all of our kids are in school, then I'll work full-time again till we have our student loans payed off.  After that, I’ll work part time so I can be involved in my kids’ schools, but still be there when they are home.

Q: What is the most challenging part of working full-time and taking care of a family?

A:  It’s been difficult for me not to be a stay at home mom, because I’ve wanted to be home for my kids, like my mom was for for me.  But I just can't right now.  I’ve had many tearful times about it.  Both my kids have asked me "Do you have to go to work?"  That sucks.

It's also hard when I come home and there’s all of the mom jobs.   I’ve had to learn balance...I haven’t always been the best at balancing and getting everything done.  Now, when I come home, I spend time with my kids, then they help me make dinner.  I’ve realized I have to cut back; I can’t do everything.  I often have to cut out some of my own stuff.  And the balance changes, sometimes it's working well, then after a while, I have to re-adjust.  When things get overwhelming, it's time to communicate.  I’m talking to Landon saying, “It would be really helpful if you could..." or “Can you be in charge of…” That helps immensely.

Q: What do you do to make sure you get quality time with your family, even though you're busy? 

A: Weekends are for us. We clean the house Saturday morning, then in the afternoon do something fun as a family.  Sunday after church we usually make cookies and take them to other people, cause I don’t want to keep them in my house.  For Landon and I, we try to go on a date once a month.  And every evening, after the kids go to bed, we devote ten minutes to just the two of us, with nothing else distracting us.

Q: How do you recharge yourself?

A: I'm in a book club.  Sunday afternoons I will sew or read...but I have to be careful how much time I spend reading.  I also read during lunch at work.  (I have to limit myself because I binge read: I’ll go a long time, then I’ll read, like 12 books in a row!)  Sometimes, I’ll call friends up and say, "Let’s go for a treat!"  You feel guilty taking time for yourself, cause you feel like you should spend ALL of your time with your kids when you’re home.  But, I'm just like anybody else, after a long day, I just need a little space.

Q: What are the positives of working full-time while being a momma? 

A: I have a husband who totally understands what it’s like to be a stay at home parent.  He never asks me why the dinner isn’t ready and the home isn’t clean, cause he knows what it's like.  I’ve also learned not to judge, cause people have made a lot of assumptions about me and even commented to me that I’d rather work than be with my kids.  They have no idea.  And, even if someone wanted to work to have a vacation home, it is still their decision!

I've really learned what is important.  Life's not about keeping up with the Joneses.  When Emily was born, I wanted to be able to prove I could do everything.  I ran myself ragged and ended up with postpartum depression.  I realized I had to slow down.  I was trying so hard to do everything that I was missing everything--and I was never happy.  You start realizing where to let go, what is really important.  Now, I know that if I can’t get something done, oh well it, it’s just not going to happen.  I don't worry about it.  My sanity's not worth the stress!  We've become more relaxed with each kid.

I'm grateful that I love my work.  I like the difference I can make.  I also love making a difference in my kids' lives.  Ha...I wish there was two of me!  

-Isn't she cool?  I'm amazed at how she constantly works at balancing it all, and I love her "you can't do it all--you have to let un-important things go!" attitude.  A good lesson for us all, right?  Thanks Tamara for sharing with us! 
-Amy

Your turn!  Working mommas, how do YOU balance your responsiblities and still have quality family time?  We'd love to hear from you!  (Remember, we're not here to judge anyone else; we all have different circumstances, so let's keep it kind!)

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From Hell to Heaven: Giving Love a Second Chance

By Kendra
Introduced by Amy

Kendra and I were both Art Ed majors at college, and we were hired by the school to teach a beginning art class for college students.  Teaching with Kendra was a breeze: she was easy-going and kind, and we worked easily together.  I didn't know at the time, but she was going through some really rough stuff.  Several times, I did notice that she seemed lost in her thoughts and distant...but she hid her trouble well.  It wasn't until later, at our graduation, I noticed on the grad program that her last name was different.  I wondered what had happened and if she was alright...but, I didn't want to pry, plus, it was not a good time for questions, with family and friends all around.  It was so fun to see her again and take pictures in our caps and gowns.  After that day, I kept worrying about my friend, but didn't know if she wanted to talk about what had happened.  

Fast forward about a year and a half.  I was teaching art at a jr. high and high school, hugely pregnant, and hugely worried.  I loved my job, but soon realized that I was too overwhelmed to manage a sub during my maternity leave then continue teaching after I had a baby (which turned out to be SO good, cause Hayden was not an easy baby).  However I didn't want to leave my school in the lurch.  I'd been praying about the situation for a while, then one day Kendra came to my mind.  I contacted her, not knowing if she had a teaching job already or even if she lived in Idaho any more.  And, miracle: she had a job, but wanted a different one, and she lived close enough to make it work!  She interviewed, was hired, and saved me!  While I was packing my stuff in the classroom, she came to set up.  Then, I asked her about her divorce.  She told me her story, and I was so relieved to know that, in the end, my friend was so happy!  She deserves it.  I asked her to share this with you, knowing that you would feel inspired too.

This may seem like a strange post for Valentines day, but we all know that true love is much more than roses and chocolate (though they're nice!).  Healthy, real-life love is not perfect, it takes effort from both sides, compromise, and patience...but it can be wonderful, fulfilling, and amazing--and real love is always worth whatever effort and patience it takes to find and then keep. 

So, if you hate Valentines day (because you have been hurt and now feel like love is a lost cause) this story is for you.   Or, if you're celebrating this day with the one you love--this story is for you, too!  I know it made me appreciate the love that I have, and I hugged my husband, Patrick, a little tighter after reading this.  And for those who are single and full of hope for love in your future, read this...Kendra's road was SO hard, but like she found: real love is worth the journey!

Thank you Kendra for opening your heart to us.
-Amy

I’m divorced. 

It used to be my scarlet letter, a brand that I thought everyone could see the minute they met me. That’s the funny thing about guilt; it lingers for a long time until one day you decide it isn't worth keeping around. 

I can testify that love and time truly does heal broken hearts. In my mind, the completion of my divorce marked the beginning of a life sentence of guilt and shame. I knew everyone was secretly thinking the worst about me and I didn't blame them. I was a failure. I had failed at keeping my marriage together and making my husband love me. I could physically feel the pain and heartache. I still remember crying to a point where I felt hollowed out, empty, devoid of life, a miserable shell. 

There was a point in my engagement where I knew what I was doing was wrong. However, pride would not allow me to go through the humiliation of calling off a wedding. I’d heard of people making marriages work all the time; I convinced myself that we would do just that. I smiled and drowned myself in flowers, lace, and tulle to muffle out the sickness and nagging doubt. My wedding was beautiful, everything I’d dreamed it to be. We married in an LDS temple. If you don’t know, Mormons take marriage very seriously. To sum it up simply, civil marriages are performed for time only, meaning the couple is together for their time on this earth ("Till death do us part"). However, our belief is that temple marriages are for time and eternity and families can be together forever. It’s a very permanent, serious, and sacred thing. 

There was a point in our honeymoon that I remember distinctly. I looked at him and realized I had marriage a stranger. If I was a good writer I would be able to succinctly describe to you the emptiness and loneliness of that marriage. To sum it up it in one word: silence. I feel I should capitalize that word. It felt like a proper noun. I think the loudest silences are those that are filled with everything that has been said—said wrong, said thousands of times. It happens when fighting becomes the condition rather than the exception and the only option is a silent retreat. Silence happens when voices are hoarse, trust breaks down, and communication dies. Our neighbors could never look me in the eye. I knew our relationship was sick. I was depressed, on the verge of suicidal. We met with bishops and counselors. I prayed, cried, prayed, and cried. I did what was right for me: I stepped out. 

My parents knew little of what was taking place and my heart swells with love when I think of how they stepped up, their hearts breaking as well, to help me in my time of crisis. There is a special place in heaven for my parents. Going home was like a breath of fresh air. 

I am not going to pretend that it wasn't the worst time in my life. However, I knew that my Savior loved me beyond my understanding. I was his daughter and he would take care of me. I know that if He had told me to stay and work it out, it would have worked. He has the power to heal broken and sometimes seemingly irreparable things, but in the case of my marriage it wasn't to be. 

I left my ex-husband NEVER wanting to get married again. I would be happy being alone and never having someone hurt me like that again. I was bitter towards men. Bitter for having hopes, dreams, wishes, thoughts smashed and destroyed by someone that I thought loved me. Bitter for becoming a tool not a wife. Bitter for all the promises of blissful marriage that I'd been promised that I'd never had a glimpse of. Simply, I was a big hateful mess. 

My Savior knows me well. It wasn't a week after I moved into a new apartment that I met a boy at a church activity. I remember that first night he wouldn't stop staring at me from across the gym. I need a friend badly and he seemed to be up for the job. I word vomited all over that poor man. All my secrets, fears, and dirty laundry, all the terrible, awful things I thought about myself were flung into his face. I dared him to stay around; I encouraged him to run away. That angelic man stayed. He and Heavenly Father worked together to help me make sense of the whole mess. He reminded me of what hope was. He helped soften my heart to feel love again. I stopped living with the “what if” and started living with the “what now?” I decided to stop hating myself. 

Every night since that first talk I have thanked Heavenly Father for him and I plan on doing so for the rest of eternity. 

Love can surprise us all. The people in our lives are there for a reason. You may not have a significant other, but take joy in having a friend or family member that cares. Dave was my best friend before I ever saw him in a romantic light. Falling in love surprised us both. 

We got married little over a year ago in the Idaho Falls Temple. When I was told that together we were creating an eternal family, I have never been so happy. I am not going to say that I didn’t have a few qualms about getting married for the second time. But imaging my life without Dave was scarier than anything I’d experienced before. I have not been disappointed. Our marriage is a blessing. Every day we laugh. Every day we say “I love you” and mean it. Every day he reminds me how special I am to him. And my favorite part is the talking, there is no foreboding silences. We plan a future. That may not seem like that big of a deal, but when your only experience with marriage is trying to get through the day without a fight, it’s refreshing to know that you have a definite future with someone. There are no doubts. 

I’m head over heels in love with my husband. He is wonderful, kind, and caring. He listens. He doesn’t judge. He loves me unconditionally. And when he looks at me, I know that to him I am worth more than the greatest treasures in the world. There is not an ounce of disapproval from him. Everyone deserves to be looked at this way. 

I have always felt weird saying that I am grateful for my divorce, but I’m not sure I would appreciate the intricate details of an amazing marriage without having gone through hell. When I look at what Dave and I have, the heartache to get to this point seems completely worth it. There is always pain in life. Divorce hurts. As do other sufferings. I made some wrong choices. I felt a lot of hurt. I felt hopeless, worthless, and miserable. However, there is always hope. There is always someone who loves you and willing to show you the way. I learned to love myself, to find strength, to pray and listen, and to trust more fully. Be thankful for where you are in your journey and for those in your life that love you. 

Today I am completely whole.

-Kendra

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You Had Me at "Shut Up."

 By Kristina

Jordan and I met in Sunday School. It was incredibly romantic and tenderly sweet. I was teaching the class, and it was the first Sunday of the semester. Everyone was new, and excited to meet each other. The menfolk were on the prowl for perspectives. Jordan was definitely a part of that. I had made a general comment or two about calming and quieting down. For the most part, it worked. The only person who didn't listen was some punk of a guy sitting in the back row, chatting it up with anything in a skirt. It was irritating. I started my lesson anyway, thinking this guy would get the clue. But he didn't. And it was infuriating. 
Finally, I'd had enough. I pointed to him all the way in the back and said, "Hey you. What's your name?" 
"Jordan." he replied with a grin. He was sure I was into him (or so I believe.) 
"Jordan." I replied. "Shut up." 

And with that, I went back to teaching my lesson. That smirk was long gone, and my sweet husband now admits to going home and asking his roommates, "What was up that teacher's butt??" 

Classy, I know. 

Somehow, we transitioned from that introduction, to a few months later waiting for appointments and chatting. Chatting lead to pizza, pizza lead to dates, dates lead to smooching. And now, almost three years later, it's all lead to marriage, and a baby, and a house. And a dog. We must never forget the dog, no matter how cute said baby is. 

Our first picture together.

The day of our first kiss..(after showers of course.)

And if that isn't the love story of the century, I don't know what is.

-Kristina 

Check out Kristina's Intro and first SOM post: "Breaking into the Baby-Making Business"

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Our Rediculous (But Lovely) Love Story

-By Amy

 *source: Alyssa Ballou Photography (Patrick's sister...isn't this pic amazing?! Thank you, Alyssa!)

Now you know that all through high school, I avoided dating (read about that here), though I secretly I liked A LOT of boys.  In college, it grew worse-I would have full-on panic attacks when I was asked out.  Anxiety was keeping me from any serious relationships, though I had many amazing guy friends and had a ton of fun at school.  

The problem was, I really wanted to someday find a guy who would more than "like" me.  I wanted someone to "cherish" me.  I don't know how I got stuck on this word, but that's what I wanted.  And we would get married, have a family, and laugh and enjoy a happy, simple, awesome life together.  Not that I ever acted like I wanted to love and be loved...I openly mocked all things cheesy and lovey-dovey.  (Jane Austen movies don't count...they are FAR from silly or cheesy.)  But, here's the catch: you can't exactly get married without dating anyone. (and...being a mail order bride didn't seem like a smart option.) 

I was just so afraid.

While serving a year and a half mission for my church, I learned a lot about facing fears.  I mean, at the young age of 22, I discussed religion with trained Ministers and Preachers, I faced off drunk dudes on the street, and I invited people to learn more about Christ who looked like they wanted to punt me over a fence.   Plus, I was away from my family that whole time...quite a stretching experience for me!  When I got home I knew that it was time to face the fear, and I knew that with Heavenly Father's help I could accomplish anything, even DATING.

So, three weeks after returning, I was back at college.  Walking into my new apartment, feeling nervous, excited and determined not to act like an awkward, recently returned missionary (picture me as Smalls on the Sandlot muttering to myself..."Don't be a goofus, Don't be a GOOFUS!"), I met my new roommate, Whitney, and her friend Patrick.  Honestly, that first meeting is not very memorable to me; I had a lot on my mind (buying books, picking a room, starting classes, etc).  I do remember the second time I saw Patrick.  There were lots of people over that Sunday evening, and for a few minutes he and I talked about our missions.  While we talked, I remember getting a brief, but strong feeling that he was a good person and that I could trust him.  I could just tell.  I immediately thought, "Ok...that was random," and thought nothing more of it.

Patrick hung around our apartment all the time with Whitney.  Funny--she was the best friend of the girl he was writing while she served her mission in Africa.  Whitney and Patrick had become good friends while he liked her best friend, so now he hung out with her while avoiding dating, patiently awaiting her friend's return.  

Patrick, Whitney and I! 

I saw him all the time and we became good friends.  It was so fun to be around him and we talked about our missions all the time, cause that is ALL I could talk about. (Come on, I had just gotten home--what do you expect?!)  Over time we started talking about more than just our missions.  We talked about our families, about our classes, who we liked, and everything else.  But all of this was with Whitney and my other roomies around. Whenever my roommates left the room, I would peace-out too.  Even though he was just my friend, it was still scary for me to be around a boy alone. 

After a while, I started to notice how often I thought about him or wondered when he would come over to our apartment--but I brushed it off.  We were just really good friends, right?  I loved to be around him.  He was chill and cool.  We both liked to dance, and he had some SKILLS.  A white guy who was good at Hip Hop?  Impressive.  We were both into music--I love to sing--he could play the guitar AND piano...double swoon.  (BOYS, a word of advice...learn to play the piano or the guitar and use these shamelessly on the girl you want to woo.  She will be wooed.)   

Plus, I think I was in denial because I was afraid, and he was just SO different than what I had in mind as my "type".  I had told my friends and roomies in the past that what I looked for in a guy, as far as looks went, was height and hair.  He had to be tall and he had to have GREAT hair. (I'm sure those who know Patrick are laughing right now.)  And...well, Patrick was barely 2 inches taller than me and...bald.  I'm not talking thinning, I mean...bald.  Also, he was 2 years younger than me, and I wanted to marry a guy a bit older than me, just about to finish school so we would graduate around the same time. 

But, on the other hand, he fit every other characteristic that I wanted, and those were the important ones.  He was fun, considerate, smart, hard-working, he didn't flirt with girls and lead them on just for kicks (oooh...that was my pet peeve.) and I knew he was a good person who cared about following God.  Most of all, he was kind.  He looked to other people's needs and tried to help however he could, whether that was giving someone a ride, helping a stranger change their tire, or explaining a math problem.  He really listened and cared about people. 

The moment I realized 100% that I liked Patrick, my roomies and I were having a Nacho Libre party.  It was my idea, (I LOVE that movie...don't hate!) and I invited a boy from one of my classes (I told you I was still in denial about Patrick) who had asked me on a date--YIKES.  I wasn't ready for a date yet, so I deflected by asking him to the party that my roommates and I were having (then went home and informed my roommates that we were having a party...ha).  He was tall, good-looking, and had lots of hair.    

So, before hair-boy got to the party, I was a nervous psycho.  And...horror, we couldn't get the DVD player hooked up.  Of course, Patrick was there, and he was working on the DVD situation.  He ran back, not once, but twice to his apartment to get different cords to try.  I watched him on the floor in front of the tv, muttering about the stupid cords, trying to help us get our party started.  It was pretty funny and so nice that he was working so hard.  Then, all of a sudden, I thought, "I think I love that guy."  

WHAT?!

I couldn't believe I had just thought that!  Where the crap did that come from?  We were just friends!  Right?  I sat in stunned silence, trying to sort through the weirdness in my mind. Then I realized that I really didn't care if hair-boy came.  Actually, I kind of hoped he wouldn't.  But then he did.  

As we all watched the movie, I kept eyeing Patrick, wishing I was next to him, my thoughts a jumbled, frenzied mess: "Does he like me, too?  OH, please like me too!  I think he glanced this way....Wait, you floosy, he's got a flippin' missionary!  And she is Whitney's best friend!  What do I do?  Should I tell him?  Oh my gosh, I am going to puke."  This whole time I was trying to act normal and attentive to the guy I had invited, trying to make the appropriate responses as he flirted with me.  Poor guy, I just wanted him to go away so I could think.

The night ended and I didn't puke.  I didn't tell anyone about liking Patrick, but--oh blessed day--I did find out that one of my roommates asked him if he liked me (she had been getting suspicious) and he told her that he did.  (I found out later that he got PRETTY jealous at the Nacho Libre party seeing me with hair-boy and that's when he realized how much he liked me...haha, good ol' jealousy...thank you hair-boy!)  I was ecstatic.  And, freakin' terrified.  I had always liked from afar, and I had NEVER had a boyfriend.  I didn't know what happened when the liking was mutual!  What was I supposed to do next?

I managed to act halfway normal around him, keeping my feelings for him hidden.  It seemed that realizing I liked him suddenly made me notice 100 times more how much I did!  I was seeing him new...and he was so cute--especially his bright blue eyes (man, I am laughing at my cheesiness as I write this, but it is true!  I was stinkin' nuts about him!)  But I still didn't know what to do.  I actually lost close to 5 lbs during this time.  I was so worried I actually felt nauseated, making it really hard to eat!  (Ha--that changed when we started dating...I mean, that boy can COOK!)

A few days later, while Patrick was at my apartment, I was seeking advice from my roommates and telling them about a guy who liked me, but I just wanted to be friends, and he took my friendliness to mean that I was interested.  Patrick was listening in to this story; he was being super quiet, then abruptly he said that he had to go, and left.  I wondered why?  Then one of my roommates asked me privately in her room if I told that story as a message to him.  "OH GREAT." I thought, "I like this guy SO much and now he thinks that I just like him as a friend because of that stupid story."  It was crazy because he believed the complete opposite of what was true; I actually liked him SO much.  And I was crushed.  I thought I had blew my chance, that he now thought of me as a jerk who leads guys on.  

I started bawling--on my roommates bed--blubbering like some fool.  I couldn't stand it.  I couldn't lose HIM!  He was so fun and good and kind and...perfect.  Not really perfect, but... ya know, perfect for me.  And, it felt so different from any other time I had liked a guy.  

I spent a sleepless night, freaking out and praying for peace and guidance.  Then I realized at, like 3 am, that I had to talk to him.  I literally felt compelled, in a way I never had, that I had to make a move.  I understood that if I chose him, then I was going to have to be brave--more brave than I had EVER been--and I had to talk to him to fix this situation.  And...OHHH boy, was I scared.  But, I knew that Patrick was worth facing the fear.  I just stared up in the dark thinking about him, trying to grow the courage I would need the next day.  I planned out what to do and say, then, satisfied, I fell asleep, asking God, "Please, just don't let Patrick think I'm a jerk."

The next day, I confessed to Whitney, who laughed and wasn't mad, as I had worried.  She handed me her phone, and with trembling hands, I called him.  In a rush I said, "This is Amy, will you meet me on the bottom floor of the art building tonight at 11:00?"  He said he would and I hung up.

That evening, as I worked on my painting, eyeing the clock the whole time, I was FREAKING OUT.  For real.  I was trying to control the rising terror inside of my body.  Remember this was ALL new to me.  My mouth was dry, my hands were shaking, (my painting looked like crap, by the way...) Because I was about to explode, I rambled out the whole story to my art buddy.  He told me to buck up and quit being chicken--I'm paraphrasing.  So at 10:59, I glanced at my friend, he gave me a thumbs up while laughing at my pale face, and I started down the three flights of stairs.  

Each step echoed in the stair well as I stepped down...one. at. a. time.  I kept getting slower and slower, but I willed my feet to keep going.  With every step I repeated those words like a mantra,  "He's worth facing the fear." and then prayed, "Please, Heavenly Father, don't let me puke."  My head hurt SO bad and my stomach churned.  But I knew I had given him the wrong idea, and I needed to fix this.  At the bottom, I saw him waiting and I said, "Follow me."  We got in my car and began to drive on the country roads outside of Rexburg.

We talked and I calmed down.  He was just Patrick!  And he was my friend.  And...I decided not to bring anything up.  

And then, with that darn straightforwardness of his, he said, "So, why did you want me to meet you?"  I took a breath and said, "I need to apologize to you."  Then, he looked sick.  I blurted out, "That story, it..uh..wasn't some kind of subliminal message.  Ok?"  After a pause he said, "I don't want to be like that guy."  And I told him that he wouldn't be, but that he needed to be patient with me.  And he told me he didn't mind being patient.  And I don't think I looked at him that whole car ride until that moment.  He had a big smile on his face.  Gosh, my heart was going to explode.  I was elated and on the edge of passing out.  (Good thing I had pulled over by then in front of his complex.)

Then I said, "But I don't want you to hug me." (real smooth, huh?)  He laughed and got out of the car, waving as he walked to his apartment.

When I got home, I was shaking from all the tension in my body.  I flopped on my bed and screamed into my pillow for probably a full two minutes.  Whitney just kept laughing and laughing.  I stopped, and she asked how it went.  And..I started screaming into my pillow again.  I had just done THE boldest thing I had ever done.  In my life.  

So, after that, we kept hanging out and I was so awkward I literally couldn't look at him or sit next to him for a while.  He was SO patient.  And I prayed for courage every day.  Literally.  

While dating, when I could finally let him put his arm around me.

The weird thing was, it wasn't commitment I was scared of--I already knew I wanted to marry him--but I was SUPER scared of all the physical stuff.  I mean, come on, I had never had a boyfriend, so of course I was v.l. (virgin lips) and felt like the average middle schooler had more experience than me.  Also, the old fears would start bugging me: what if he stops liking me?  What if gets tired of me?  What if it ends up that I'm not pretty enough, funny enough, or good enough?  What if he gets tired of being patient and starts liking someone else?  

But he didn't.  And every time I got worried, he reassured me again. 

Holy cow, was I an idiot in love.  I couldn't think straight.  And the tallest man with the fullest head of hair could have walked up to me and proposed and I would have said, "Get away, fool.  You're not Patrick."  I loved him so much.  But, it was still scary to go against the way I'd thought and acted for years, so he had to help me take baby steps.

First we went on a date.  Then, after a month of seeing each other every day, we finally held hands.  (Ok, he held on to my fist while I freaked out.)  

And then, a month after that, I told him I loved him.  With a stocking cap pulled over my entire head.  Yep, down past my chin.  And I threatened to get out of the car if he tried to kiss me.  

Then, a month after that, we kissed for the first time after an hour (no exaggeration) of me huddled up on my side of the car saying, "I just can't.  I just can't.  Let's just forget about it, ok?"  But, he wouldn't let me.  My Patty-man had the perfect amount of persistence and patience.  

Shoot, after I got used to that, I liked all that physical stuff.  Haha! 

At times I would get worried and think, "Did I make the right choice here?"  But, I knew that God had helped me from the very beginning to know that I was safe with him.  And it wasn't Heavenly Father saying, "Here is the man you are to marry.  Now marry him."  No, it was my choice.  I chose him, and thank goodness, I felt God's approval.  

So, he proposed, I almost passed out, and after being silent for 5 mintues, I squeaked out a yes.  

And we got married.

What a crazy miracle.  I, Amy, the freaked-out, scared of relationships, avoider-of-dates, am now married...and I have a baby, too!  Sometimes I see people from high school and they say, "Wow, you are married!  How did that happen?"  Haha...yep, it blows me away too.  

Our first married Hallwoeen...Gangstas...Ohhh yeah.

Our two-year Anniversary!  And some Blow-your-mind-delicious cake...

And, I love Patrick.  Our life and relationship has bumps like everyone's, but it just keeps getting better.   We laugh so much and I still love to talk to him, and just be with him.  When he holds me, I feel Heaven, ya know?  Like, I finally understand what it means to be compelety understood and loved despite my flaws; I feel....cherished.  I know everything will always work out.  We will work through anything and support each other forever.  

With our brand new baber, Hayden. *source: Alyssa Ballou Photography

I feel so dang lucky, so blessed, and even now, some days I look at him or cuddle up with him and our sweet little baby and think, "I get THIS?  This is for me?"  I can barely believe it.

Christmas Morning!  And, Hayden eating his hand.

My sweet little fam.  *source: Sherie McDaniel (my sister...thanks Sher Bear! Ha!)

So that's our story.  I know it was long, but it means so much to me, and I wanted to share it, cause there are others who feel hopeless or like failures, whether in love, school, their careers...or in any other part of life.  But, it's not true.  I remember being convinced in the deepest time of my anxiety that I was un-lovable.  But, that was not faith speaking, just fear.  

And I don't know how each of your lives will progress, but keep hoping and trying and facing fears.  You gotta start moving forward and keep moving, doing all that you can do.  

Don't let fear paralyze you.

Cause for the best things in life--it's worth facing the fear.  

-Amy

P.S. At some point while we were dating, he wrote the girl on her mission to let her know that he was dating me.  I always worry about the one who got hurt in every love story, but it all ended well, cause she's happily married now, too!  

P.P.S. Ok, now it's YOUR turn to spill:  Were (are) you scared to date/get married?  What were (are) your fears?  If you've overcome them, how did you do it?  I would really love to hear from you.

P.P.P.S.  I must admit I feel a little exposed sharing this story.  Your comments would be appreciated, so I don't feel like I just spilled my guts into an empty room.  Thanks, friends! 

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