A Story from a Life - Part Three

One

Two

__________

The relief I felt was as palpable as the comforting arms of a good friend hugging me, holding me close to their heart, telling me without words that everything would be okay. It's difficult to explain how a secret, a wholly altering secret with the power to impact several lives in its path, can burrow a tunnel within your soul. A small, tight place where you can bury all of your emotions under the darkness of denial to the point that the denial of a thing becomes your sole purpose in being.

Once the tunnel is exposed to the outside world, and the contents are flooded with the blinding light of Reality, the whole of it becomes something entirely different from what you've allowed yourself to believe it to be.

So, I slept that night, blanketed in a peace I'd forgotten was possible, a calm tranquility long forsaken by the effort of keeping the secret. The night passed slowly, allowing me time to catch up with myself, affording me a deep and restful sleep that had evaded me for weeks. One night, in the midst of it all, caught between the denial and acceptance, where no worry existed, no anxious glances over my shoulder were needed.

I slept for nearly fourteen hours, missing my Women in Literature class, missing the meals in the dorm cafeteria, missing the daylight altogether. And yet, somehow, I found myself on that lost day, gathering strength for the days, weeks, months...for the life ahead of me, from that point forward.

Following practical and insistent instructions he relayed to me during one of our many phone calls that evening, I walked to the student union building across the street from my dorm and scoured the bulletin board, looking for a stranger offering the kindness of a ride home. My heart skipped, from dread, not joy, when I was able to secure transportation from a girl heading my way, that very night, in mere hours.

I went through the required motions of making the arrangements, somehow, some way, even though I knew this trip home would be one of the most difficult journeys of my life. But he was adamant. We had to tell my parents, his mother. We had to start dealing in truth and consequences.

Of course, he was right.

Of course, I was terrified.

When he picked me up at the designated drop off point in my hometown, and I came face to face with him for the first time since he was let in on the secret, he said and did everything right. How do people manage that? I wondered at the time, and wonder still. How do they learn the right things to say, at the right time? How do they have an inherent ability to maintain reason when insanity swirls around them, when there is no rhyme or reason, honestly, to be found? It's a quality I've never acquired, but I can easily admit that seeing him, being in his presence, strong, responsible, empathetic, never admonishing me for what had transpired, only searching for the Right Thing to come...well, if I wasn't in love with him before that moment, I fell there hopelessly and forever in that moment.

I'll never be able to articulately, or even adequately, translate the intensity of it. He made me look into his eyes. The first words he spoke to me were in the form of a kiss. He told me he was taken by surprise, obviously; it was unexpected. He told me he was nervous, about the responsibility, about the sudden and unavoidable shift in the direction of his life - our lives. He was scared, more than a little; all of those things and a million more. Then he looked me in the eyes and said, "But I'm ready. It's what I wanted, maybe a little earlier than I planned, but it is what I planned, in my mind, for us. We're going to make it, and as long as we're in it together, it's going to be okay. Do you believe me?"

Right there, right then, I did. With every fiber of my being.

It's a fact of life that people disconnect from each other, painfully obvious in a family context. Parents who refuse to "get" their kids; kids who loathe their parents; entire family units torn apart by misunderstandings, lack of communication, utter failures of unity. I do understand this exists, but it brings me profound despair all the same.

The reaction of our parents to the news that we were pregnant and had decided to become a family of our own, was one of initial shock, followed by immediate, and sincere, support.

What do you want to do? How can we help? Are you okay? Have you seen a doctor? This is not the end of the world, together we can make it the beginning of something wonderful.

I've tried in the many years since to imagine how my life might have gone if they had reacted differently. If they had said, in effect, this is your mistake, you deal with it. How could you be so stupid? Don't you see you've ruined your life, and ours with it? But I can't imagine that scenario with any clarity, because it never would have happened. Despite my fears, my belief that I had let them down in the most tangible of ways, I really never expected anything less of them when push came to shove. And, as usual, they stood by me, and him, and dedicated themselves to offering of themselves in every way humanly possible, to be there for us, without remorse. To love us, without condition.

I am awed to this day by the strength displayed on all sides: his mother, my parents, our extended families. I am aware to the very center of the very core of my being that their strength enabled us to handle this new course of our lives. Without them, I have no doubt we would have stumbled, and struggled, and most likely have made a mess of things.

With them, beside us, we instead embarked down the road that led us to where we are today.

It was my dad who insisted we wait until the baby was born to get married, only for the purposes of adequate insurance coverage and entering into our life together free of the debt should problems arise. Problems did arise, a story for another day, but proof of my father's wisdom. It was his mother who insisted she would continue to pay for his college education, demanding of him that he fulfill his promise and potential. It was my mother who held my hand, went with me to the doctor, doodled possible baby names in a notebook. It was all of them, together, who taught us what it really means to be parents, a feat they pulled off without lectures or judgment, but rather with lessons that poured forth from their hearts and their actions.

There have been many angels in my life; steadying hands, inspired influences, sources of comfort and assurance. Guiding lights who sometimes showed themselves to me, and who other times worked their wonders without me knowing of their presence.

So, yes. I believe in angels.

I am surrounded by them, every second of every day, in the form of my family.

From the day I tremulously loosened the grip my lonely and scary secret held on me, to this present day in the here and now, I've lived my life with a fierce determination to live up to the faith these guiding lights have invested in me. It's an effort, ongoing and rarely easy; I fail miserably at times. Even so, their belief in me never wavers, leaving me no choice but to find the power within myself to ultimately succeed.

And I will, you know.

I know.

Comments

[Nancy]

I've said it before, and I'll say it again - I'm jealous of the strength and bond of your family. Happy as can be for you, of course, but jealous, too.

I'm lucky in that I consciously have built up a 'new' family of people who give me that non-judgemental emotional support and encouragement, but I do still wonder in what deep-rooted ways has the lack of having strong blood-relationships marred my view of the world?

I think the end result is in comfort. The peace of knowing you have people who will support you, and in that sense you can make bold decisions that you might not have without their help. I live more on edge - very much aware that I'm on my own, in the big picture. It's fine, but I do wonder how life would be otherwise.

Thanks for sharing your very personal story, and the continuing saga of how it all continues to play out...

[Margi]

Your story is, no matter how many times I read it, more powerful than you imagine.

For reasons I will never divulge, I'm always happy to read your happy ending. And so thankful for your willingness to share.

And, of course, for the magnitude of love from all in your family.

You are blessed. And you know it. And you write it in such a sublime way. . .

As always, I'm awed by you.

xoxo

[Jennifer]

Yeah? I got chills typing it.

[lissa]

Two years later it's still the most beautifully written posts I've ever read. I cried AGAIN.

I got chills from the comment "But I think...now I'm ready to write it."
Crying again. YAY! Do IT!

[poopie]

Indeed you will. I know, too. ^j^

[Jennifer]

It makes me sad for too many people, meno. Because, really - what's the point of it?

You know what strikes me as I read your comment, atop of reading your blog for as long as I have?

You are that kind of parent. One of the good ones. And that right there makes me smile for you AND Em.

[meno]

What really struck me about this story was the support from your parents, both sets.
I cannot imagine being that lucky with mine.
Which made me happpy for you, and cry a little for me.
Hug your parents for me.

[Jill]

W-O-W.

Stunningly, perfectly, amazingly beautiful.

[jali]

Beautiful, beautiful. I'm in love with all of you.

[Jennifer]

You guys are very sweet, and as usual, far too kind to me for my own good. I don't think I'm particularly brave on either front - living it, or putting it out here. It just was.

My as ever awkward way of saying thank you for the complimentary words.

And as alluded to in my original comment on part one of this little trilogy, it's being reposted from two years ago for purely selfish reasons. When first written, it was a journal entry; a conversation, almost, more than anything. I posted it again, and even retyped it line by line, to hear it one more time.

Because I know I've told the story. But I think, now, I'm ready to write it.

[Karen]

What an excellent part 3 of your story. You are a very blessed woman with wonderful parents, mother in law, and of course your guy.
My guy was thinking about the future and a family long before me, too. How terrific is that in a world of others? And today your daughter is a shining example that pulling together works. And a practical daddy (yours)...

[Curmudgeon]

You're very brave, opening yourself up like this in such a public way. Such a personal experience, one that was so visceral, so defining... I wouldn't have the guts to write this.

Then again, you had the guts to do it, so writing it must feel far less intense.

Thank you for sharing this.

[ChickyBabe]

I'm very touched by this series, and in the context of your previous posts, you are one special woman.

[Cee]

Oh, and what a wonderful part 3 it is. Thank you for sharing this story.

[wordnerd]

I cannot thank you enough for sharing this journey with us. We are all better for having read it. This was truly incredible.

[Deborah]

Remarkable, sweet and grand.

[Marsha]

You have succeeded, you will continue to succeed. Your inner grace and beauty is always been aparent, now I get a chance to see where it came from. Thanks for sharing.

PS I can't stop pushing the button, help me.