Our Journey in the US Navy

While my husband was in A-school, I spent my days being mommy and cuddling my little, tiny newborn son. He slept a lot, and was so easy to care for. I tried breastfeeding him, but he was so little and had such a rough start that I ended up feeding him formula. While I was disappointed, it freed me up to sleep some when the weekends came around, because Paul was able to care for him and feed him.

Near the end of November 2010, my parents came up to Chicago to see us for Thanksgiving and so my Dad could meet our little man. That was really special to see him holding TJ and getting to know his first grandchild. It was also near that same time that Paul was able to put in his requests for orders. We were given the option of Virginia, or California. We chose California. We didn't think we'd actually get California, because everyone in his A-school wanted that duty station. Who wouldn't? California is such a gorgeous place!  On December 11th, my hubby called me to inform me that we would be transferring to San Diego, CA and that he had to report on January 1st. His discharge date from A-school was nearing rapidly, so we packed up our little car and got ready for the long drive to Texas. We would have about 2 weeks to pack up our stuff at my parents place and then we'd head for San Diego.

I want to back up a little though, because there are some things that happened right after boot camp that changed the course of our lives for a while. I hesitate to share some of this, because it is sensitive in nature, but it's part of our story, and I feel it is a vital part to sharing how we got to where we are today.

Paul spent 6 years of his life locked up in a boarding school that was highly abusive, both verbally and physically. The boys that lived on this "ranch" were abused and hurt, so much so that to this day, a lot of them won't even talk about God, won't have anything to do with Christians and struggle on a daily basis just to keep breathing. More than one of them have committed suicide because of their experiences there. They leave that place depressed and more angry at humans than when they went in. This place has caused a lot of issues for all of them, except for those who were brainwashed by the men who ran this place, claiming that they're God in the flesh and convincing these boys that they're these horrible, decrepit people. Paul came out of that place with PTSD and he still struggles with emotional issues from his experiences there. The horrors he went through are unspeakable. I would love to explain some of it, but I'm hoping that he will feel to share some it here, on this blog, someday soon. My heart goes out to these boys, now turned men, that went through so much there. The lack of love, acceptance and the physical/verbal abuse has turned many of them into unfeeling, detached, deeply hurt human beings. I can only pray that they will all come to know the true love of Jesus and feel His tangible presence and peace someday.

Bootcamp in the Navy reminded Paul a lot of his time in boarding school. It brought back a lot of suppressed memories and he struggled to maintain his feelings. He began to feel extremely depressed and even suicidal at times. He would talk with his instructors and they offered the family services and counseling, so he would also talk to them too. Things would improve for a while, and then he would get flashbacks, and the PTSD would resurface and overwhelm him.

During all of this, I didn't know how to handle any of it. I am a protective type of person and when I see someone I love hurting, I just want to find out who hurt them and make it right! I try to not be vengeful, or angry, but my humanness shows through sometimes and I forget how Jesus wants me to act. So I began to lash out at different people that I felt were responsible for him being this way. I wanted him to feel loved, and he hadn't felt loved. I want him to feel taken care of, and he didn't feel taken care of. He was angry, hurting and dealing with a lot of emotions and I wanted to see him happy and feeling like life was worth living! So the people I felt were the cause of all this beared the brunt of my accusations and hurtful words.

We felt alone during this time. We didn't have church family at the time. We didn't have real family around us, except for my parents and even then, they were thousands of miles away. We didn't have friends. It was just us, our baby and God. While God is always enough to bring you through anything, sometimes a person just wants a tangible human being to sit and listen, love and help when you're going through something crazy, and out of control.

Along with Paul's struggles, I began to have struggles of my own. Being in the US Navy is no easy task. Being in the military in general isn't easy. While I wasn't an actual member of the military, I was my husband's biggest supporter, cheerleader and friend. What he went through, I went through. What bothered him, bothered me. What he experienced, I would try to understand. In the military, you do exactly what they say, ask no questions and just "trust the process."  Here began my struggle with feeling like I had no control over my life, my child's life, or my husband's life, and especially my marriage. I remember the time I first felt very out of control of our situation and actually got angry over it. It was probably 13 degrees outside. It was snowing and absolutely dangerous outside. I had left our hotel room to drive to the base, as I hadn't seen Paul in 2 days. He had duty for a while and then had a late class, so it had been a while. I wanted to see him and made the treacherous 18 minute drive to the base. After arriving, I texted Paul to let him know I was there. On normal occasions, he would normally text right back, saying he would be out soon. To leave the "ship" he had to stand in line (if there was one), salute, request leave, sign out and then walk out to the car which was across the road from where he was staying. But this one time he didn't text me back for nearly 30 minutes. Here I was in 13 degree weather, with a newborn sitting in the back, with snow coming down and he wasn't responding! Grrrrrr. I kept texting him over and over and then suddenly, probably around 300 Sailors poured out of the buildings around me and stood at attention. Their instructors and overseers were yelling and screaming and everyone looked tired, frustrated and even angry. By this time, I had been sitting there for nearly an hour. I still had no clue what was going on. Finally they called dismissal, but still no one was allowed to leave, so they were all still standing outside, in the cold and wind, waiting. Paul was finally able to text me and he told me someone had pulled a prank and had pulled the fire alarm bell, causing panic and disruption. When it was discovered that it was a prank, they all had to file out and get yelled at. After nearly 2 hours of waiting in the cold, all the Sailors were dismissed and were able to go about their normal evening. I was near livid. I had watched them all get yelled at. I had watched several sailors double over in pain from the biting, nipping cold. I had watched my husband stand there, huddled in the cold, all because of one stupid act of another immature person. Why did everyone have to be punished? Why did they have to get yelled at? What the heck had we got ourselves into?
Paul finally got in the car and I turned the heat up to get him warm. He was shaking and after a day or two, he came down with the flu. I was convinced it was from standing out in the snow for hours. He kept trying to tell me that everything was ok, that this was normal and that it didn't bother him. But that didn't calm me. He reassured me that the Navy trained them for stuff like this and that it was ok. But I knew deep inside that all the yelling and screaming was causing him to go back to his boarding school memories and how it was affecting his PTSD. I could see the look on his face and I knew that he was just trying to calm me. This would only be the beginning of me feeling like our lives were out of control. This experience would later prove to be a more "relaxed" experience in the Navy. We would face a lot more, including hazing, verbal abuse and men backing me into a corner, yelling and screaming at me! We would experience a lot worse and my feelings of being out of control would deepen and things would get a lot crazier. 

So began our journey with learning to overcome feelings, thoughts, PTSD and all sorts of other things.

We left Chicago, drove to Texas and packed all our stuff up. It was such a nice trip to see my parents and spend some time with them. They had an early Christmas with us and that was really nice. The Navy movers showed up and packed all our stuff up in a truck and told us it would be delivered in about 3 weeks. The morning of December 28th, we left for California.

While we were on our way, we had barely left my parents place and had just entered El Paso, Texas when the craziest thing happened. I was driving and somehow lost control of the car. To this day, I have no clue what happened. I was driving in a two lane freeway, in the fast lane, going around 60 mph and the car suddenly started fishtailing, and spinning. This freeway was packed. And when I say packed, I mean each car had about 3-4 car lengths between each of them. Semi trucks were everywhere. Right before the car started spinning, I had looked to my right and saw a semi pulling up next to me. Paul was sitting in the passengers seat and was using his laptop to play a game. TJ was in the back seat, sleeping peacefully. We had music going and everything had been peaceful up to this point. I was enjoying the drive. Our car began to fishtail and spin and I just closed my eyes and screamed, "Jesus! Please HELP us!" Carrie Underwood had just come out with the song, "Jesus take the Wheel" and that song came to mind. I felt someone take my hands off the wheel and our car did a full 360 about two times. We crossed into the other lane, backwards, looking into oncoming traffic, and then kept twirling through the median and ended up on the frontage road, facing the right direction. The entire time, I didn't have my hands on the wheel. I can only believe that an angel took control of our car and guided it safely to the frontage road. Paul and I looked at each other and he asked me what happened. I honestly didn't know and I still don't know! We got out and checked the car over and there was not a scratch. A very nice couple pulled over and came to check on us. They told us they were driving behind us and saw the entire thing. They told us it was like someone or something had grabbed our car and spun it like a topper, glided us into the grass and placed on us on the frontage road. I checked on TJ and he was still fast asleep. We could have been easily seriously injured or even dead! I thank God every single time I remember this experience. And when I feel like God doesn't care, or doesn't remember me, I am reminded of this time. His mighty hand of protection was over us that day and if anything proves He cares, this experience shows us He absolutely does.

That night we stayed in Arizona at the best hotel I have ever stayed at in my entire life! It had the fluffiest pillows and the most comfy bed ever, and they even had a crib for TJ. In the morning, we went to breakfast and it was the most scrumptious breakfast ever! They had an all you can eat buffet and it was full of fresh fruits, yogurts, cereals, pancakes, waffles and biscuits and gravy. I'm sure they had more too.

That day we finished our drive to San Diego. The day we arrived, it was chilly, cloudy and a bit gloomy. I remember having a sense of excitement to discover our new home, but I also felt this sinking feeling of feeling alone, tired and unsure of our future. We drove by the base and looked around. We went to the dry-dock where Paul's ship sat, being worked on. He was to join the fleet of the USS Bonhomme Richard (Richard is said like, "Rishard." It was HUGE! I don't think I realized how big those ships are! Then we headed to the housing office to get the keys to our new home. We had picked a nice military housing district and a nice two bedroom, two story home. It was very nice to have a home to call my own. That was December 30th, I think or maybe the 31st. I get my days confused. January 1st, 2011 Paul went to report to his ship at 10 am. They had him sign a couple of papers and then he was free to go for the next 2 weeks while they got his paperwork in order and gave him time to get settled into our new home. That was the beginning our our journey in San Diego as a new military family.

The Beginning of a New Life

I want to back up just a little bit to talk about something I forgot to mention that was key in my story, in my last blog post. 

After getting married, Paul and I began to talk about getting our lives right with God and maybe trying to attend church again. My parents lived in Waco, Texas still, at the time and were going to Antioch Community Church. One Saturday night, my Dad just mentioned that we would be more than welcome to tag along, if we wanted. 

Sunday morning came and we decided to go. I was still extremely sick with morning sickness and felt a lot of shame over being pregnant longer than I was married. I remember putting on a loose shirt and tight waist pants, trying to hide the growing bulge of my belly. We walked into the church and while I don't remember what the sermon was about, I remember thinking that I liked it! The word that came spoke to my hurt and struggling heart. Everyone was so friendly! But of course, I kept thinking, they were friendly because they didn't know my story. They didn't know how awful I had been. They didn't know that I got pregnant before marriage. What would they think of me after they found out? 

After a couple of weeks of going to church on Sunday, I began to look for a Life Group so we could have some friends. I found one and we went, hesitantly, scared, but it turned out wayyyyy beyond our expectations. 

This group was a God-send! We are still in Facebook/Twitter/Instagram contact with them all, and hope to meet up with them later on still. We made friends and there was this one couple, who were engaged at the time. The sweet lady, Courtney Binkley, sat down with me and asked me about my pregnancy, and my story. I hesitantly told her my story and her response blew me away! I don't remember her exact words, but she was so accepting and even interested in my story. She told me that unless we have failures, we can't have testimonies. It amazed me that I was accepted and loved. Slowly, our story got around in the group and all of them were so loving. 

Before Paul left for the Navy, a couple found out we didn't have a car yet and really had no means of getting one. So they GAVE us their car!  It was the biggest blessing that could have every happened to us. We felt so loved, and I believe it was God's way of showing us He still cared and loved us too. Despite our failures and our weaknesses, He showed Himself strong. 

Once I got up to Chicago, I attended a couple of churches, but ended up not enjoying any of them, so I watched Antioch's sermons online. 

Paul graduated from Bootcamp and that was a glorious day! I couldn't sleep all night and I was ready to go around 3:30 am! :) I needed to be on base around 6:30, so I left around 5 am to get to the Navy Base. I was shaking with excitement and just couldn't wait to get there. The line to get into graduation was nearly a mile long, but once we got inside, it was smooth sailing from there! I was nearly 7 1/2 months pregnant at the time and still experiencing some nausea and dizziness, so the Sailors who were seating people made sure I was comfortable and had some water. The 10 divisions soon marched in and I searched in the sea of white clad sailors for my tall, handsome man. But everyone looked alike, so I resigned myself to seeing him afterwards. My greatest fear was that I would mix him up for someone else and hug the wrong person! Haha!

This picture was taken later on in the week, right after graduation. I was still pregnant with TJ at the time. 

 

They soon called "Liberty!" and the newly graduated Sailors were free to see their families. I ran through the crowd and searched each face as I passed. Where was he?! Then there he was! The first thing that hit me was how skinny he was! I think I asked him first thing if he had eaten enough. He promised me that he had! It was so nice to get a nice long hug from him. 

That was the beginning of our journey in the US Navy, as a military family. It would be a journey that would take us into a lot of ups and downs. We would go through unbelievable hell in the next few months. To be honest, I am glad I didn't know the future on that happy day, because if I had, I think I would have been running to the other side of the world with him in tow. But I'll get to that part of the story later on. We had from September 10th (when he graduated) to December 15th to be in Chicago, while he was in A-school. He was required to stay in his "ship" (it was actually just a regular brick building, but in the Navy, everything is a "ship." lol).  He would have been allowed to stay with me if his school time would have been over 80 days long, but his actual school dates didn't quite add up to that....of course they would add up to 78 days. Haha! Just our luck, right? Anyways, we made the best of it and every evening I would drive to the base and would eat dinner with him and spend some much needed couple time with him. We would sit and talk in the car, or go in the NEX and walk around. We bought some things for the baby and got ready to be parents. 

He asked his teachers if he would be able to get off from class when the baby came, and it must've been God, because they said yes! Normally, from what we had heard, they didn't allow that. They even allowed him to bring his phone to class, just in case I went into labor. What a blessing, right?! Sure enough, the morning of October 8th, I started to have pains, and I felt like the baby was going to be coming soon. I went to be monitored, alone, at the hospital, to see if I was having real contractions. They told me that the baby would be coming, but for me to go home and rest for a bit. I went home, and relaxed, called Paul and told him it would be soon. He got out of class early and I went to pick him up (I had our car). We went back to the hotel and I rested. I woke up a lot in the middle of the night with pains and we went to get checked out again. Later on, after the horrors of my first delivery, I would do research on safer, more relaxing deliveries and regret my decision to get checked so much! But I was a first timer and didn't know much at all. 

  I had dilated a bit, but still wasn't  in "active" labor, so I went home to rest some more. We went and walked the mall, we walked around the hotel, we did squats and I rolled around on my birthing ball. That evening, Paul was still with me (his instructors had told him to just take the rest of the week off since the baby would be born soon), and he cooked dinner for us. He was heating the last part of our meal up and I was rolling around on the birthing ball. Suddenly there was a pop and a gush...my water had broken! I was so excited and scared at the same time. We went to be checked out again and sure enough, they confirmed I had broken my waters. So I was admitted. That was October 9th, near 10 pm. I had been in labor for a while and couldn't imagine the pains getting much worse. I was laboring and progressing pretty good until around 3 am, when suddenly, the nurse who was checking on me panicked. The room filled (I think there was around 20 people in there! At least it seemed like a lot) with people and I was lifted and flipped over onto all fours. They attached a head monitor to the baby and they put an oxygen mask on me. I had absolutely no clue what was going on. Paul was standing by my head and I kept asking, "What's going on? Is the baby ok? Am I ok? What is wrong!?" No one was answering and they were just pushing a lot on my belly and rearranging the baby. Fear and terror took over my heart. I remember Paul laying his hand on my shoulder and just standing there in shock. At the time, my faith in God wasn't strong and my first reaction wasn't to pray. I wish it had, because since then, I have learned that praying is the best calming method there is!

Finally, after what seemed to be a long time, they told me they had nearly lost his heart beat completely. It had dropped down to 17 and was intermittent. They told me I needed to lay on my side because if I laid on my back then I would be squishing his cord and he would loose oxygen. Around 10 am, they came in and told me I had been laboring a long time and that I wasn't progressing as fast as I should be. (Little did I know that this was a scare tactic and that they would have pushed a c-section on me). I was already at 7 cm and if I didn't progress to a full 10, ready to push, by 12, then they would be suggesting surgery. I told them there was no way I wanted to have a c-section and asked for a little bit of pitocin. They gave that to me, along with an epidural. I was so exhausted that I knew if I didn't have some relief, I would be too tired to push. (By the way, the epidural did nothing for me besides numb my legs and made the delivery so much worse! My other two babies were delivered without an epi and I am so thankful for that). Anyways, at 11:30 am, they came in to check my progress and low and behold, I was ready to push!!! The pushing began and at 12:23 pm my little man, TJ was born! He didn't cry at first, and he was very purple. So they rushed him over to check him out and got him some oxygen help. After a few moments though, we heard his little cry and they brought him to me to hold! 

The feeling of holding my baby in my arms overwhelmed me. I cried and cried! I couldn't believe I was actually a mother and that my little man was finally here! He was very early (he wasn't due until November 17th, originally, and then they pushed the date up to November 7th). So we stayed in the hospital for 3 days while he was watched closely. He ended up having jaundice, so he had to be on a blue glow light. The only time we could take him off was when we were holding him. I had lost a lot of blood (let's just say, don't let a nurse rip your placenta out of you....let nature take it's course. Unless, of course, there is a threatening situation going on. My nurse just wanted to get the mess cleaned up and get it over with and rushed the process.) On top of that, I had extremely low iron levels and they wanted to get my iron levels up before I left. 

After going home, life as a mommy and daddy became the norm. Sleeping in became a thing of the past. Sleeping, in itself, became a thing of the past. But the joys of having a little one to hold was so worth it!!! 

Well, this blog has been long enough for now. I'll get to more of the story later on! Blessings~

Leaving CFNI

In the beginning of the Spring Semester at CFNI, I ran into issues where I didn't feel comfortable there anymore. As an RA, I was privy to certain struggles going on with different students and there was a situation where I felt a student was treated like I was at my old church. Now when I look back, I realize that I was overly sensitive to the leadership decisions, but at the time, it felt way too close to home and I felt I needed to leave.

I had also begun dating my now husband, Paul, and he was leaving the school too for other personal reasons. (If he wants to share his story sometime, I might see if he'll guest blog on this!) I knew why he was leaving and it added to my feelings of wanting to leave.

Right now, I want to stop and say that CFNI is a GREAT place and would highly suggest it to anyone who is wanting to have a deeper walk with God and learn what He wants for them in life. There is nothing wrong with CFNI, it was all me. So please don't take my negative comments as if CFNI is a bad place, because they're wonderful! I miss it and we have considered going back to search after the heart of God, for His plan for our lives!

While I feel that I made the right decision, for me, to leave, I also regret the decisions I made afterwards. When I left, I was angry at God, I felt insecure in myself and even though I knew God was real, I didn't feel He was real for me. Unless you've been in that place, what I described above might be confusing. I thought He cared about everyone else and could care less how I felt. I didn't think He cared about me. If He cared, why would he allow all this stuff in my life that was confusing? Why did He let me suffer in my church, where I felt alone and sad the last four years I was there? Why didn't He just stop the elders from abusing their authority? Why didn't He save me from all that? So ultimately, when I left, I didn't care about God. I didn't care what He thought. I didn't want to know Him. I didn't want to go to church. I didn't want to have anything to do with God.

I remember one day that my Mom was talking with me about my struggles and snapping at her when she mentioned God. I didn't want to hear His name. I didn't want anyone telling me God cared, or loved me. I closed myself off, and even to this day I have a hard time accepting love from anyone, especially God. It's something I'm working on, because God loves to love, and He loves through His people and accepting love from Him is apart of being His child.

So right after I left CFNI, I was in a carnal state of mind. I had no desire to please God. He was too hard to please anyways, in my mind. I couldn't please the people in my old church, or anyone else for that matter, so why not just live my life for me? Make myself happy, became my motto.

Paul didn't want to go home to his parents place at the time, and he loved me, so he wanted to stay close to me. My parents offered for him to stay with us (maybe I should have my Mom guest blog on here to share their side someday!) and of course, the risks of two young-loves came with that. We promised we weren't wanting to be inappropriate with each other and that we would abstain from sexual activities. We wanted to get to know each other better and have a regular dating life. But one night, I was coming out of my room to get something and he had come out too, and we kissed. While our parents knew we were holding hands and kissing, they didn't know we had met in the hallway. The first time wasn't planned. But then our carnal natures took over and we met nightly to kiss. And those kisses led to touching and touching led to sex. I remember that day clearly. I was so upset over my failure to keep myself pure for marriage. I felt dizzy and in shock. I knew I had displeased God, and I felt my soul had been condemned to hell forever. I kept thinking, "What is the point of trying to live for God after having sex before marriage? He's never gonna forgive me and I'm going to just go to hell anyways." Paul felt the same. I won't go into a lot more detail on this part of my life, because I feel part should remain private, but ultimately, we fell pregnant.

My first missed monthly warned me that something was up. I went and told Paul that I thought I was pregnant. We hadn't figured out how to tell my parents that we'd betrayed their trust and had failed our promise to them. I was so scared of how they'd respond.  And I was disappointed in myself for disappointing them. I hated hurting them. And I knew that when I told them, that they would be disappointed, angry and that the trust they had in me would be broken. On top of the fear of telling them I'd had sex, now I had to tell them I thought I was pregnant. So after letting nearly 3 weeks pass, Paul and I went to the grocery store and I bought a pregnancy test. I went into the grocery store bathroom and took the test. In minutes, the two little pink lines told me what I thought to be true: I was pregnant. I had a mixture of feelings wash over me. I was going to be a Mommy! But my stomach churned at the thought of having to tell my parents. To be honest, I panicked and even considered abortion for a few haphazard, fearful, scared minutes. I voiced my thoughts to Paul and he immediately told me there was no way we should consider that; that this baby was wanted and we would get through this together. He brought me back to earth and I have regretted thinking those thoughts ever since that day.

I hesitate to share what I did just now, but I feel it is a vital part of my testimony. Am I ashamed? Am I sorry? Yes. A BIG resounding yes. I just hope my story can give someone else hope.

Another day passed and I began to experience worsening pregnancy symptoms. I knew I needed to tell my Mom and Dad about my pregnancy. So I asked my Mom if we could go out to eat and talk. I had no clue how to tell her what was going on. We sat down at the table in this little Mexican food restaurant in West, Texas. We ordered our food and I let her talk. I kept biting my lip, wishing the news would just flash across the sky, so I wouldn't have to open my mouth to tell her. Tears threatened to overflow several times. Finally I said, "Mom, I need to tell you something. Paul and I broke your trust and....I'm so sorry. I'm pregnant." She put her fork down and began to cry. She didn't finish her food, and asked the waiter for a box to take her food home. She didn't say much at the time. She just wanted to be alone and figure it all out in her mind. She did ask me why. I had no answer for her. My heart still breaks as I write this. The lump won't go away. I wish I had never broken my parents trust. I wish I had done things different. I wish I had cared about God. I wish I hadn't gotten pregnant. I wish, I wish, I wish..... But wishes don't fix things. Wishes don't change what happened.

I texted Paul and told him I had told Mom. He was at my house, waiting on me to get back. My Dad was in town, so my Mom dropped me off at the house and went into town to meet up with my Dad and tell him what was going on. We waited at the house for them to come home and tell us what they wanted us to do. I knew they were going to have a range of emotions and I was unsure of what to expect from my Dad. After about 2 hours, they called and told us that they didn't want Paul in the house and that we needed to leave and meet my Dad somewhere, so he could talk to us.

My Dad was extremely calm with us. It was the best thing for me at the time. I was relieved and thankful that he was understanding; disappointed, upset a bit, but understanding. He told us that Paul needed to find another place to live, but that he was welcome to keep talking with me. After all, he was the father of the baby and we needed to figure out how we were going to work our lives out, to raise this baby. My dad and Paul worked together to find him a place to temporarily stay while he worked at getting a job and finding a place to live permanently. Paul and I began to discuss what we wanted to do; we decided on getting married. During this time, we told his family, and it wasn't received very well. We had disappointed and angered everyone.

Paul began putting in a few job applications to some places, but there wasn't really any interest to hire him, and he was a little unsure of how to even get a job. At the time, both of us were young and immature. We had no clue what life held for us and we were embarking into unchartered waters that felt scary, dark and lonely. My Dad talked to Paul about joining the military, because it would be a stable environment for us. Paul had already considered joining the US Navy when he was 17 years old, so he began looking into different military options. He was mostly interested in the Air Force, but after talking to them and having issues with getting his paper work done, we went to the Army office to talk to them. We completed the paperwork and even went to MEPS to pick out his job. He had a couple of options with them. I got cold feet and told him I didn't want him to join the Army. It was way too scary, especially with the US being at war in Iraq and Afghanistan. So we went to talk to the Navy recruiters about his options with them. I felt a little better about him being in the Navy. We began the process with them, got the paper work done and picked out his job. We wanted a quicker start date, so we had two options for his job; he chose to be a Machinist Mate. (They work in the belly of the ship with the steamers. They are the ones that make the ship move.)

During all of this, I was having some complications with the pregnancy. I was loosing tons of weight (I had a total loss of 19lbs during the entire pregnancy and I was already skinny when I started out). I started to bleed a lot and have contractions that were so severe I could hardly move or talk at 15 weeks. We rushed to the ER, thinking I was miscarrying. They did an ultrasound and told us that we had twins, but that one had passed away. The other one was just fine and it's heart was beating steadily. My midwife kept a close eye on me for the next few weeks. My heart was breaking the entire time. I thought God was punishing me for being a horrible person and sinning by having sex before marriage. We didn't know that I was pregnant with twins either, so it was a shock to Paul and I. We were grieving the loss of our baby, but also celebrating that we still had one! I guess when we went to the Care center for pregnancy, the sonographer didn't detect the twin. Maybe she just didn't even look once she saw the one. I'm not sure. I've heard of twins hiding behind the other in the early stages too. We had our first sonogram at week 8. We named our Angel baby, "Blessing." We didn't get to find out the gender, but we have felt it was a girl, for some reason. I still miss my baby! Sometimes I still ask God why!

I was also throwing up daily; I couldn't hold water, or food down. I could barely move away from the bathroom for the first 6 months of my pregnancy. And things were getting stressful while we prepared for him to go to the US Navy bootcamp. His ship off date was July 16th, 2010.

The military wouldn't accept me as a dependent unless we were married, which meant his paycheck would be smaller, no insurance for me and no housing for me and the baby. So we decided to push our wedding date up before his ship date. We planned our wedding for April 18th, 2010. We didn't have a whole lot of friends at the time, so we just had family and two friends of mine there, Anna and Chelsea. Paul's family was unable to make it, so we flew out to California to be close to my family who lived there. They all came and made our day very special. My parents bought me a beautiful dress, and rented a gorgeous place that was outdoors with roses and wildflowers all around. It was the most beautiful wedding ever! I am so blessed to have had such nice wedding, even after all that I had put my parents through.

After our wedding, we began getting ready for him to leave for 9 weeks for bootcamp. I dreaded missing him, especially with  me having issues with the pregnancy. We found out he would have A-school (a specialty school for training him as a Machinist Mate) up in Chicago, where his bootcamp was going to be. So my parents offered to help me move up there, and live in an extended stay hotel. I took them up on the offer and I packed up, and moved there. He was to be in A-school for around 18 weeks, I think it was, so he would be there when I had our son. We wanted him to be close by when the baby was born. We didn't know if he would be able to attend the birth or not, but on normal weekends, unless he had watch duty in his ship, he would be able to spend time with me and then he could see the baby. We also knew he would have some evenings to spend with me.

This has been long enough....so I'm going to stop here and pick up later on.

Learning to Be Me

Learning to be me has been challenging to say the least. For nearly 17 years, I spent my life pleasing other people and following their leading, believing that their voices were God in the flesh. While I still believe that God can speak through other people as He has proven over and over in the Bible, I have also learned to question the "word" they bring, because so often, people put themselves in the place of God, and speak words that should never be spoken. 

As I have said before, too, God might have something for one person, that He doesn't have for another. So the past 5 years have been spent with me searching after what God wants for me. 

I remember going to get my hair cut for the first time with my roommate at CFNI. My hair was about 2" above my ankles at the time, so there was a lot to cut off! I walked into that Walmart salon with shaking knees and dizzy feeling in my head. The scriptures that were pounded into my head began to flood my memory, about why women weren't supposed to get their hair cut and how I would be displeasing God and why I shouldn't be getting my hair cut. 

The lady behind the desk smiled and was welcoming. She was so excited to be giving me my first haircut since I was five years that she offered to give me the full treatment for the cheap price. I had no clue what the "full treatment" meant. I was just along for the ride! Remember, I am 22 years old at this point. As far as I can remember I only had one other haircut in my entire life. 

The sweet lady took me to wash my hair. She kept asking me how long it took to wash my hair normally and why was it so long. It was the first time I'd ever really thought about how different and unusual I was and I started to feel pressure to be like everyone else. She cut my hair to my waist line. I wasn't ready for it to be shorter quite yet! It would take me a couple more years to get to the point I would be ok with shorter hair. 

I have to admit that my head felt a lot lighter having less hair!! :)

After that, my roommate took me shopping for clothes. She got me a shirt and some pants. I remember slipping into the pants the first time and I felt so weird! Nothing like wearing pants for the first time since the age of 5. Ha! 

Around this time, the summer semester was over at CFNI and the Fall semester was starting. I became an RA for that semester. Probably one of the biggest mistakes of my life. While I enjoyed the "perks" that came with that, like RA retreats and meetings, and stuff like that, I was the one needing ministering to, not to be ministering to others. But I didn't know that, really, at the time. I'm not even sure it had totally hit me that I wasn't in my old church anymore. It was almost as if I were living a good and bad dream. 

To be honest, there are days even now that I think I'll wake up and find this is all a dream. I loved that place. I miss all my friends there. There are days I want to make friends, but then I think of the relationships I had there and am scared that nothing will ever compare to what I had there. There were the girlish cliches and rare "issues" amongst women, but never the cliches and issues women have these days within the church. I've tried making friends over and over and either get disappointed or shunned, or pushed away, or forgotten about. There's only so much texting and calling a person can do without realizing they're not wanted, you know? It was never that way in my old church. While they have a lot of issues, and things about them that are really wrong, one thing they have right is the sense of love, community and togetherness. I miss that. A lot of people I have run into are stuck on religion and their feelings on who they want in their groups and who they don't! It has caused a lot of hurt and confusion.....

Well, it's nearly 4:30 am and I need to get some sleep. I'll keep writing soon!