That is to say, it’s the one month anniversary of my wedding. I can’t really say “anniversary” can I? After all, it hasn’t been a year. According to the website Grammarphobia, the correct word for monthly anniversary is “mensiversary”. Honestly, it sounds too much like a female bodily function for me to be comfortable in using it. So, I’ll just continue using the word “anniversary” incorrectly.
I cringe a little when I begin to say this has been the best month of my life. There is pain in that statement. There have been amazingly great things about it, but there have been some challenging and downright scary moments, too.
If you’ve been reading my blog or know me at all, you’ll recall that a few of my children are adopted. With that comes some emotional and mental challenges often caused by early childhood trauma. They live in a constant state of fight or flight and any sort of change can trigger it.
Marriage is a BIG change! I knew there would be rough times. The kids and I have been together for 10 years, I know their triggers. I know that having a dad in the home will be scary since they’ve never had one stick around. In their minds they wonder if they are the reason they’ve never had a dad. As adults with life experience we know that’s not true, but their little hearts don’t. There is the fear that they will, once again, be left by a man who promises them he’ll always be there. So, they yell and scream and demand my attention late into the night.
I may have been a little naive to think that this wouldn’t be such a challenging month. Police were called and DHS came for a ‘friendly’ visit. I was afraid. Other foster/adoptive parents assured me and let me know that I had a good clean 10 year run with no investigations, it was bound to happen. I’m not sure that it was put quite like that, but that’s what I heard. In this world of parenting kids from hard places this in not unheard of. Our kids are literally running scared. It can cause PTSD and secondary trauma in us parents or other siblings. I can feel tears rise to the surface and my heart clench as I wrote that last sentence. I went over to the blog: Confessions Of An Adoptive Parent to link back to their latest post about trauma. I looked through the post only briefly as to not get distracted, but my heart was in my throat and I wanted to cry.
Why do I want to cry right now? Is it because the weight of my children’s heartache is too great for me to bear? Is it relief at knowing I’m not alone in this journey, that we’re not alone? Am I worried for my new husband? What if he starts showing signs of PTSD or secondary trauma, what then? Or is it simply the realization that this unrest and pain is real? I’m not making it up.
Maybe it’s all of the above.
Here’s what I do know as truth.
We were all meant to be in this family together. God is in this and with us. His word says He will never leave us. This battle is spiritual. Therefore, my weapons need to be out of this world, too.
Lennox and I have a great routine of reading the Bible and praying together each morning. I’ve been writing in my gratitude journal and steeping myself in the Word. I am listening to other believing men and women who encourage and teach me. There is hope beyond hope. I think it’s in Nehemiah where I read something to the effect “we are prisoners of hope”. I read that many years ago as a young woman, it has stuck with me. We cannot escape hope. Christ is our Hope.
It is so good to have a husband. I feel stronger. I am able to face battles that I couldn’t withstand before. This marriage thing is good.
I am happy. I’ve never known what that is before.
On the 14th of every month we will dress in our wedding attire and take some pictures. Today we went to therapy and the DMV before stopping in a field for pictures.
(Lennox isn’t wearing his wedding shirt because it’s at the cleaners. Oops.)