Our Life as We Know it

Things have been really tough lately on our marriage. Since I like to play the blame game, I have been blaming everything on him. He's not compassionate, He doesn't listen, He's not sympathetic, He's too judgemental. But, this morning I sent him a nasty text message. After I sent it, I  started to think about our marriage. Justin chose me as his wife basically thinking the only things he would have to deal with was my grief over my son, my procrastination, and my lack of house cleaning.

He had absolutely no clue what he was in for. Eight days after we got married I got pregnant with Josiah. I was put on bed rest at 14 weeks for pre-term labor. Not only, did Justin work hard. He had to come home and do the laundry, clean the house, and cook dinner. He did it with a smile on his face and never complained one time. Then Mr. Josiah decided to greet us early at 28 weeks.

I had never seen Justin so scared before, but he remained the strong one. I had mixed emotions all over the place. I was elated that, although, Josiah was barely three pounds, he was so healthy. I was also consumed with grief. Josiah was my first baby after Isaiah died. And the fact that he was a boy made my heart break even more. I was SO happy to have Josiah and I fell in love with him instantly. I thought that having another boy would cure my sorrow, but it only made it worse. It was a reminder that Isaiah was never coming back. After we brought Jos home from the hospital I fell into a deep depression. During that time, Justin was the one to get up with him in the middle of the night and somehow he  managed to get to work on time then come back home and clean and cook. He still had no complaining. He just took care of us.

The day after Josiah turned one I had to have emergency surgery on my intestines. Justin stayed at the hospital with me every night. He'd wake up at 3:30 to get home to get ready for work. And as soon as he got off work, he came straight to the hospital. He slept in the hospital bed with me everynight just holding me. When we got home, he held me up in the shower because I was too weak, he dried me off and dressed me because I couldn't bend over. During that time, he was still cleaning the house, cooking dinner and taking care of Jakob and Josiah.

Since that surgery in 2007, I have had to have 13 surgeries. Justin treated me the same exact way he did with the first surgery. Again, no complaining.

In December 2007 I got pregnant again. Once again, put on bed rest very, very early for pre-term labor. Justin, once again, took care of the house, Josiah and Me.

On April 12th Anna-Grace was born at 27 weeks and 2 pounds.

I finally had my little girl, but the Doctors assured me that she would not live. Again, Justin was there for me. He was scared to death, but he put my needs first.

Anna-Grace only spent 5 weeks in the NICU before coming home. She's perfect now. Praise God!

Shortly after we brought Anna-Grace home, I was diagnosed with Bipolar I with psychosis.We now had an answer to my deep depressions, suicidal thoughts, Rage, (the word rage does NOT even begin to explain it!) Mood swings, Agitation, and hallucinations. Since then my condition has only gotten worse. Justin has endured my screaming fits, throwing things, breaking things, threatening to leave him, weeks on end of barely getting out of bed, and hospitalization.

I wish that I could tell you that Justin still does all those wonderful things for me, but I can't. I've spent the past three years thinking that he just doesn't care or that he just plain doesn't want to deal with me. I've felt alone and abandoned and judged. I have felt like he thinks that if he just doesn't bring it up, then it won't be true. I've felt anger from him that I have never seen before. 

Last night as he was sleeping, I was trying to ward off my hallucinations by closing my eyes and just thinking random thoughts. My marriage came up and I could only think about the distance I feel from him. Then, I thought of all the things, big and tiny, that he has done for me. Telling me I'm beautiful when I first wake up. Calling me on every single break he has just to tell me he loves me. Practically giving me anything I want within reason. Holding me every night in bed. Worrying about me going to the store after dark. ALWAYS asking me how I'm feeling, and so much more.

My husband loves me. He's not angry with me, he's angry with my condition. He's sad, he's sad for everything I have had to deal with. No, he doesn't understand what I'm going through. Why would I expect him to when he has never dealt with the things that I have. He's worried that I'm going to hurt myself. He's worried things aren't going to get better. He does care, immensely. Just sometimes he really has no clue what to do with me. He is angry. He's angry that his wife can slip into a world of delirium in a split second. He's angry that after three years they still can't get my meds right. He's angry, as am I, that it is painfully obvious we will never be the so-called normal family.

My husband is worn out, scared and angry. But that does not mean that he is not there for me. I know that our souls are intertwined and no words or hard times could ever loosen that bond.