I'm Falling to Pieces

This is my first post since December 2015.  I wish it was a happy post.  But I don't have happy posts.  I write about life and truth... Topics often filled with melancholy.

For years, I kept a dirty secret.  I don't make a habit of bashing my husband (yes, he's still my husband) on the internet.  It isn't right.  Our past is full of heartache, but I don't want to leave something in cyberspace that could hurt our children years down the road.  But sometimes, you have to come forward and talk about your experiences.  Sometimes, your life lessons will benefit others.  

For years, I lived with a drunk.  I stuck around long after a smarter woman would have left.  I endured immense cruelty, violence, and loneliness.  It's ironic how alone you can be in a house full of people.  

For years, I walked on eggshells because almost anything would set him off.  His biggest fear was losing his bottle.  At the end of John's alcohol abuse, he was drinking 21 shots a day.  He was never sober.  24-hour-drunkenness.  And he saw nothing wrong with it.  

For years, we suffered.  Even after I found the strength to leave, I was enslaved to him.  Fathers are as important as mothers. Our children need their father. But, Drunk Daddy didn't pay bills. All of his income converted to vodka.  His alcoholism financially drained me.  After receiving a notice from the bank that his house was at risk of foreclosure, I took a second job.  I paid my bills.  I paid his.  I bought every bit of clothing the children wore.  I paid school and activity fees.  I bought pictures.  I provided every morsel of food consumed by the children in my home AND his.  Since the day we moved, I have received $0 in child support.  

For years, I made excuses for him.  When he didn't show up to get the kids, I told them he must have been working over.  When people at church mentioned he smelled like alcohol, I told them it was a very strong mouthwash.  (People will believe anything because none of us want to believe there is a problem.) My life became too much for me.  I was working 48-70 hours per week and didn't have a pot to piss in.  That's addiction.  It takes everything from everyone, not just the user.  

For years, I loved a man with a mistress.  It's sad. As I sit here typing this, I wish I could say he chose another woman over his family.  But he didn't.  He chose Kamchatka.  $11 for a half gallon.  Cheap booze.  Drunks don't need quality; they need quantity.  He bought one every 3 days.  And that was just his home consumption.  He was drinking at the bar every night too.  When I finally realized how much he was drinking, and specifically how much he was spending, I snapped.  I was working my ass off to keep him in his home.  I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was just enabling him.  So, I decided to stop.  I confronted him with proof of how out of control he had become.  It hurt me to look in his eyes and tell him I was done footing his bill.  If you don't pay your electric, you will have to visit the kids in my home.  If you don't pay your mortgage, you will be homeless.  I am done working to save you.  Save yourself.  

For years, he turned to a bottle when he had a very large support system surrounding him that he could have turned to instead.  His family is very close.  We belong to a loving and uplifting church.  We have community ties to therapists and addiction programs.  He ignored those.  Vodka owned him.  It took my intervention, and our pastor, to convince him that he no longer had control.  

For years, I have loved an alcoholic.  And I will always love him.  He was the boy who changed my world.  Every good thing in my life came from my connection to him.  A few months ago, he chose sobriety.  For several days, he sweated out the alcohol on my couch.  He has been trying so hard to be a good co-parent and a loving father. I have been so proud of him...Until yesterday.  Yesterday, old wounds reopened.  Yesterday, I received evidence to suggest he is drinking again.  He's associating with drunks.  He's spending his free time in bars.  He's become involved with a 52-year old woman who is a daily drinker.  Everything they do together involves alcohol.  Everywhere they go, booze.  How does an alcoholic maintain sobriety when temptation is all around? How can a sober person make such bad decisions?  It's hard to believe the words of someone who made a life out of lying to me.  

For years, I have believed in him.  But I'm not sure I can anymore.  He owns what he has done to me.  I know he is sorry.  But apologies don't take away pain.  They're just words.  Just when I felt like myself again, just when I thought I was getting ahead, I find I can't even Breakeven.   

His Love Will Light Our Way

December 1.  Advent.  It's an event we look forward to every year.  The dragons had been eagerly anticipating the sweet taste of chocolate advent calendars (because they didn't get enough Halloween candy.)

This year, I wanted to do something more meaningful with Advent.  My friend, Barb, introduced us to "Truth in the Tinsel."  Our church hosted a gathering where families assembled to prepare their advent packets.  I had to work and could not attend.  Barb and her helpers prepared 25 days of activities for my children.  I looked through the packets and instantly knew this was exactly what I hoped to do with my children for Christmas.

Tonight, we completed the 1st activity.  The directions suggested we read a passage from the Bible, discuss it, and then complete the activity.  Young children lose interest quickly.  I really wanted them to stay focused through the entire activity.  I chose to create the craft first and then read the accompanying passage.  It was a good idea.

The craft was a stained-glass-like candle.  I helped the children cut out their candle frames and strips of tissue paper.  They glued the strips to the candle template.  They truly enjoyed making the craft and asked a lot of questions.  Mainly, they wanted to know why it was a candle.  What was its meaning?

I had them! By doing the craft first, I sparked their interest in the story.  Score! I read the passage.

Isaiah 9:2-7New International Version (NIV)

2 The people walking in darkness
    have seen a great light;
on those living in the land of deep darkness
    a light has dawned.
3 You have enlarged the nation
    and increased their joy;
they rejoice before you
    as people rejoice at the harvest,
as warriors rejoice
    when dividing the plunder.
4 For as in the day of Midian’s defeat,
    you have shattered
the yoke that burdens them,
    the bar across their shoulders,
    the rod of their oppressor.
5 Every warrior’s boot used in battle
    and every garment rolled in blood
will be destined for burning,
    will be fuel for the fire.
6 For to us a child is born,
    to us a son is given,
    and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
    Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
7 Of the greatness of his government and peace
    there will be no end.
He will reign on David’s throne
    and over his kingdom,
establishing and upholding it
    with justice and righteousness
    from that time on and forever.
The zeal of the Lord Almighty
    will accomplish this.

We talked about what it meant.  They understood Jesus came to teach us peace, justice and kindness.  Jonah asked, "but why a candle?"  I answered, "because Jesus is the great light in the land of deep darkness, just like the passage says."  And Jacob said, "I'd really like to know Jesus.  He could be my friend."

And then they wanted to hang their candles on the Christmas tree.  Who knew bread ties made excellent hangers?  Why do I not own ribbon???

Thank you, Barb, for this truth in our tinsel.  Advent is already meaningful to my little ones.

We also received a very thoughtful gift in the mail today. During a recent visit with my very best friend, Beth, I mentioned the kids and I were going to make ornaments for our tree this year.  We are having our first Christmas in our new home and I did not have any decorations.  I also did not have the extra funds to buy a bunch of stuff.  Homemade ornaments were the answer (and the kids would LOVE it!)

Beth and her wonderful husband, Matt, sent us a giant box of garland, ornaments, beads and a tree skirt.  They also included outside lights for our bushes.  I cried when I opened the box and read their sweet note.  I cried.  My children literally squealed with delight and immediately dug into the box to discover its contents.  We ran the garland up the stair banister and draped the skirt around the tree.  We'll hang the ornaments, beads and outside lighting tomorrow.  Thank you so much, Beth, Matt and Alex.  You mean so very much to us.

I'm going to bed tonight feeling very blessed and very loved.  This is Christmas, right?  Count your blessings.  Light is coming to a dark world.  Soon.

I've Never Been Defeated and I Won't Stop Now

Ugh!  I haven't written a blog post since May 14th!  How does that happen?  Life, that's how.

Been busy.  In a moment of insanity, I enrolled in an 8-week program to pick up a second educator license.  It was intense.  In 8 weeks, I completed 22 credit hours.  In grad school, that equals about 2.5 full time semesters.  Yep, over a year's worth of work in 8 short weeks.

My fellow educators.  If you haven't seen me in awhile, I'm seated in the second row...super blonde hair. 

I entered the program so excited to do it.   Opportunity to work with students of a variety of ages?  Sign me up!  Meet cool people and build my portfolio?  Yes, please!  Student teach in only 8 days?  Halle-friggin-lujah! Could it get more perfect?

But it was not perfection.  I'm not leaving the program as optimistic as I entered it.  But that is something for another post, after I'm licensed. For now, let me tell you that I met 24 really awesome current and future educators.  I will treasure my time with them.  And I will post a more comprehensive blog when I've had the time to process it.  Stay tuned!

Other awesome things have happened this summer.  The twins played t-ball and their dad, John, helped coach the team.  The boys were difficult and it's tough coaching you're own children.  (Hello, that's why I don't do it!)  However, I think John really enjoyed the time he had with them.  His work schedule has been so strenuous for most of their short lives.  This was really the first opportunity he had to have dad/sons time with just the two of them.

Here are the boys!  #5 and #6...in the outfield where the troublemakers go.  And John, proudly sporting his team shirt. 

John also helped with Mason's softball team.  She's 7 now.  Well, seven-and-a-half.  That shizz is important to a little girl.  She's grown about 2 inches this summer and is starting to look like a little lady.  Unbelievable.  I take as much time as I can to be with her.  Soon, my mere existence will embarrass her.  I'm running out of time!

Mason had her first taste of Mexican food and loved it.  Here we are at the restaurant...our typical serious selves. 

The boys had their 5th birthday.  I know, I know.  Time flies.  They were babies just yesterday, I think.  The party was at the bowling alley.  Neither one of them could behave and we had to take them home early from their own party.  It was a rough day for the twins.

Birthday buddies just prior to their epic tantrum. 

We went to the Akron Zoo.  It's a favorite for the children and something they love doing.  We packed a picnic, drove about an hour, and spent some time visiting the animals.  (I think the kids really just like going to the gift shop on the way out.)

My love bugs.  Get it???  

Earlier this month, we went to the West Lafayette Homecoming Festival.  It was small, but nice.  And there was cotton candy.  Doesn't get any better than cotton candy. 

Mason and Jacob loved this.  Jonah did not.  He feigned illness to avoid going a second time.  (Which was fine because this stupid slide cost me $9 per ride. Seriously $3 per person?  Ridiculous!)

Last weekend, we joined many other members of the Canton Mothers of Multiples for a summer outing at a water park.  Sorry, no pics.  I can't believe I didn't take any pics!  But I did get an awesome sunburn...while wearing SPF 70.  (Yes, I'm that white.)

And throughout the summer, I have continued to enjoy my new relationship with TJ.  He's just awesome.  On two occasions, I have been so stressed I've shut down.  He handles me well.  No judgment.  No advice.  Just a simple, "April, how can I help you?"  I need that.  (No pics here, either.  He doesn't seem to like when I share them.) 

So, as I end this, I'm reflecting on how busy I've been this summer.  There has been a lot fun and a lot of trials.  I've juggled work, volunteering, a parenting plan, and classes AND SURVIVED! I've been tested and endured more than I thought I could. I have persevered when others would have been defeated.  But not me.  All I do is win. 

On a Wing and a Prayer

It's been awhile since I've shared my life with you.  I've been busy.  Working, parenting, volunteering, ending a marriage.  And falling in love. 

Shocked?  Me too. 

I decided to end my marriage in December, 2014.  It took a lot of thought and prayer to have the courage to do it.  I've never known independence.  I went from my father's house to a dorm room to my husband's house.  I have never stood on my own two feet.  And it scared the Hell out of me.

But sometimes, you have to risk failure to find happiness.  I did and it has paid off. 

If you're stunned John and I are dissolving our marriage, it's likely because we have kept our relationship quiet forever.  We are not ones to engage in public argument or post negative things about one another on social media sites.  I'm thankful we continue to have that kind of respect for one another.  However, I assure you, this is not a sudden decision.

We have separated in the past.  In the nearly 16 years we have been married, it has been a constant battle for peace and contentment.  We grew apart.  We changed.  We became strangers. And we could no longer live like that.

So I moved on and moved out.  Yes, in that order.

I was not planning to date this soon.  I had made peace with the idea that I would be alone forever.  Or date women.  (Look, I'm not man-fan.)  I had made the decision to leave.  John and I both accepted it.  Finding housing took time, so we lived separately in the same house.  It was difficult and uncomfortable.  Since life was so rough at home, I looked for other places to be in order to avoid confrontation with John. 

I began spending time with John's cousin.  He and I had a mutual friend, TJ.  We decided to look him up and meet for a few drinks one night.  I had a blast and it was great to see my old friend again.  The three of us met for drinks a few more times over the next couple weeks and TJ and I began texting one another routinely.  I thought nothing of it, but enjoyed the friendship.

Then, I realized how much I looked forward to nightly texts with TJ.  I was happy.  But I never dreamed he would be interested in me. Still married, 3 children, a butt-load of student loan debt.  I wasn't exactly a catch.  Yet, somehow he saw something in me I didn't know was there.

TJ's birthday was in March.  We spent the weekend in a cabin with some friends.  It was life changing for me.  I've known him for at least 11 years and have always enjoyed his company.  He's smart.  Crazy smart.  By the end of the weekend, we knew we were definitely more than friends.  He asked if he could call me his girlfriend.  I almost said, "No, I'm not ready for titles or commitments."  But I looked into his eyes and saw everything I've ever wanted. 

I have always wanted to be loved.  Here was a man asking to love me.  A man I felt so deeply connected to.  A friend for life.  A joy.  How could I even consider letting that go?

As I type this, I have an estranged husband and a wonderful boyfriend.  It seems complicated, yet I feel no conflict.  I have been honest with John from the beginning.  He has also been incredibly supportive.  He sees how happy I am, and because he's a decent man he is pleased for me. Or as pleased as an almost ex-husband can be.  

The children are happy as well.  They adore TJ. He's a bit of a rock star.

I've received a lot of support from friends after becoming public about our separation.  Thank you for that, but I feel the need to tell you I am not sad. I've never been this happy.

I leaped and I'm Learning to Fly.  

We Have Been Heaven Blessed

When babies ask to take selfies, you can't refuse.

Introducing: Miss Nola Adele

"Please, Aunt April.  Let's take a selfie."

Kissie-face selfie

Clint Eastwood  bad-ass selfie

Just a couple of wild and crazy gals selfie

Sleepy baby selfie

Wow, look at all that hair selfie. 

I'm gonna love her forever selfie. 

Isn't She Lovely? 

Hold Them Close to Your Heart

Numbers.  My brain has a way of holding onto them.  342-3667...my phone number when I lived on Main Street in New Lexington.  I haven't had that number in 20 years, but I know still it.  15-22-11...my locker combination my senior year of high school.  67...the number of months John and I tried to conceive before our miracle happened.

Babies are miracles.  Our participation is largely primitive and unimpressive, but what happens at the cellular level is truly magical.  Conditions must be relatively perfect for the egg and sperm to unite.  The window for conception is quite small.  It's amazing conception happens at all.  (Unless you're an unmarried and uncommitted teen in the back of a car....that seems to be the recipe for pregnancy.)

I carried a lot of anger inside me while trying to conceive.  It seemed like there were babies everywhere.  Everyone I knew was having a baby.  John's family popped out children like the Duggars.  Yet, it wasn't happening for me.  I longed for the chance to be a mother.

Somehow, with a lot prayer and wine, I made peace with not being a mother.  John and I decided to wait until we turned 30 to adopt.  We planned to travel, buy a timeshare, enjoy our life together.

In March 2007, we went to Vegas.  I was sick the entire trip. I assumed I caught something on the plane.  John was disappointed because "Fun April" was replaced with "Tired as Balls April" in the most liberal city in the US.

When we returned home, I still wasn't feeling better.  A month went by and I was falling asleep watching the 5 o'clock news.  John thought I should see a doctor. No way...no docs.  My friend, Brenda, said I was pregnant.  I laughed at her and went to buy a large chocolate milkshake at McDonald's because I couldn't seem to get enough of them.  (I have never like chocolate milkshakes.)

Shortly after, we had a party and Brenda helped me set up for it.  She was chopping veggies while I sat on the kitchen floor drinking another milkshake.  She opened the fridge door and I caught sight of the dill pickles.  I kid you not, I had to have one.  A pickle and a milkshake.  Brenda said, "We're going to Walmart. You need a pregnancy test."  I finally thought she could be right...I just didn't want another negative test.

We ran to Walmart and I read the test directions on the way home.  The directions recommended waiting until morning.  I couldn't do that.  I had to know.  If it was negative, I was going to get so smashed at that party - drunk enough to forget the hope of having a baby.

It was positive.  I walked out of the bathroom stunned.  I asked Brenda, "What am I going to do?"  Her reply, "You're going to have a baby."

You're going to have a baby.  The most longed for words in my history.

We told very few people we were pregnant.  We kept it from our family.  It seemed too good to be true.  My pregnancy was verified by the doctor and an ultrasound was scheduled for a week later.  I had no idea how far along I was.  I hadn't kept track of my menstrual cycle...it hadn't mattered.

John had to miss the first ultrasound.  He was traveling for work.  My doctor said, "We've got a heartbeat.  Want to hear it?"  In that moment, it became real.  I really was having a baby.  Unbelievable.  I had no experience with any of this, but I thought it would be odd to have a heartbeat at such an early gestational stage.  It turned out, I was 13.5 weeks along.  My doctor said, "Welcome to the 2nd trimester."  I thought, "well, that was easy." My due date was Christmas Day.  My miracle.

It was mid May, 2007.  We waited to tell my family at my dad's birthday.  I signed the card from John, April and Baby Gano.  It took him a minute to get what I meant.  He asked if we were finally adopting.  Everyone knew I couldn't conceive and no one was expecting a natural pregnancy.

One minute after our announcement, my sister said, "Chris and I are going to try to have a baby too."  Really, she usurped my moment.  I was pissed.

My sister was pregnant by July.  John's sister was pregnant by October.  Why wouldn't anyone just let me have a little bit of the spotlight?

But I got over it.  It would really be nice for my daughter to have 2 cousins to grow up with.  Then tragedy came, as it always does when things are perfect.  Too perfect.

My sister went into labor in December.  She wasn't due until April.  Tyler was born on December 11, 2007.  2 weeks before Christmas.  We knew his survival was slim.  I sat in the window sill in her L&D suite while he died.  I did not hold him.  I could not hold him.  My baby was due in 2 weeks.

How could this happen?  I was so sure he would be a miracle baby.  Born way too early, but strong and relatively untouched by the trauma of his early birth.  It happens.  Why didn't it happen for him?

Have you been following Grey's Anatomy?  The Kepner/Avery story line crushed me.  Last week (SPOILER!) April and Jackson said goodbye to their baby.  April struggled with her faith.  She demanded to know where the justice was in their loss.  She begged for a miracle.  "They happen.  Miracles happen," she cried.

This is on my mind today.  My newest niece will be born tomorrow in the same hospital my nephew died in.  I can't think of being there without feeling the pain of losing him; relieving those horrible few days.  I do not know how my sister puts that memory aside when she enters that hospital.  Maybe she can't?  I do know that she is much stronger than I ever gave her credit for.  Perhaps that is a miracle?

Miracles do happen.  I know because I had 7 pounds of miracle inside me while my nephew was being called home.  Why does that happen?  Why do so many mothers get such few precious moments with their new babies, their miracles? Why do we stumble when the miracle we've prayed for isn't received?

Maybe, we expect too much.  We demand biblical miracles: the deaf hearing, the blind seeing, the dead living.  Perhaps, we are failing to see every day miracles around us.  The pregnancy we were blessed to have.  The ability to feel another human being growing inside us.  The sun on our faces, the snow, the rain.  A smile from a stranger.  The birds returning to the exact same place every spring.  Fruit trees, flowers, nature itself.  The Ordinary Miracle.

I'll be as Honest as I Feel

Life is a circle.  Well, maybe not exactly a circle.  More like a tide or a wave.  Or whatever.  I don't really have any philosophical bullshit to feed you today.

Life can be so good.  So, so good.  Then, BAM!  WHACK!  Out of nowhere, something sweeps your feet out from under you.

For a few weeks, I had been feeling a stabbing pain in my right breast.  It wasn't constant, but it scared the hell out of me.  I felt my breast, my lymph nodes, my groin.  I was sure I'd find a lump.  Nothing.  Until 2 weeks later.

I was in the bath, leaning back and relaxing.  I felt the pain and thought I'd feel for a lump.  And I found one.  It was about the size of a pea.  I yelled for John.  He felt it too.  Then I threw up.  Why? Because that's what happens when you're 35 and you find a lump in your breast.  Breast cancer at 35 is tough to beat.  There is a grave difference in survival rates between women of advanced age and women in child-birthing ages.  Breast cancer kills young women because it feeds on the hormones we still produce.

Panic.  Sickness.  Doom.  My own mortality.  Fear.

I was convinced that one tiny lump would end my life.  Take me from my children.  Finish me before I watched them grow.  End me when I feel like I've just begun.

It was my own fault.  I hadn't been to the OB/GYN since the boys were born.  Yes, I know it's been nearly 5 years and shit like that's important.  But, I've been a little busy trying to be everything to everyone all the time.  Some things get pushed to the side with the intent to catch it up at a later, less busy time.  Less busy...never gonna happen.

I tried to make an appointment.  My doctor had retired.  Greeeaaaatttt.... just what I wanted: a new doctor to become instantly intimate with.  I must say, the new doc was pretty fantastic.  He was extremely professional and didn't judge me for putting my own health absolutely last in my list of priorities.  He was very positive and told me not to worry before the test results were read.

I felt one lump.  He felt two. The mammogram and ultrasound revealed 3.  THREE!

The mammogram wasn't as bad as I expected.  Yes, ladies, they literally squish your breast.  Like a pancake.  After capturing horizontal images of your breast, the technician moves the equipment and vertically smashes your boob.  It wasn't exactly painful, but it certainly wasn't something I'd like to volunteer for often and I'm so happy I am not a mammogram technician because, eeewwww.

When the tech found 3 lumps, she marked them with stickers so the ultrasound tech would have an easier time locating them.  I walked from the mammogram to the ultrasound in nothing but a hospital gown, opened in the front.

The last time I had an ultrasound, I got a wonderful pic of two perfect little boys growing inside me.  It was miraculous and beautiful.  This experience wasn't as nice.  I laid, humiliated, while another woman squirted cold gel on my breast, moved it all over the place and firmly pressed her wand into my body.  And then it was over.

I expected a long wait.  I was starting to put on my clothes when the tech turned to me and said, "Please keep the robe on.  I have to take this report to the radiologist.  You are probably done, but I may need to take more images.  You will knowing something soon."

"Soon" turned out to be about 30 minutes.  The radiologist came into the room.  I was sure I was doomed.  Why else would he take time to talk to me?  He said, "Ms. King, I just talked with your doctor (OMG...I'm terrified!) and I am 100% positive that you have 3 sebaceous cysts in your right breast. They're completely benign. Whenever you feel pain, it's because they have filled with fluid.  Use heat to drain them."

I'm alive!  Healthy and alive.  AND READY TO LIVE.

I have made some promises to myself.  Life is short.  We are not promised tomorrow.  I will be happy with whatever time God gives me.  I will live in a way that pleases me.  I will not die without standing in the Montana valley, smelling the crisp mountain air, feeling so tiny.  I will not die having never known reciprocated love.  I will not waste the rest of my life the way I have so many precious years thus far.  I will not feel anger or resentment for things that were never in my control.  I will not feel the need to reveal my plans, my whereabouts, my business.  I am responsible only for my own feelings.

I've spent forever healing.  I am no longer picking up the pieces.  I am whole.