A quick update.

So much has happened... so much that I want to share, but I just feel like I don't have the energy to get it all out. I still count the days since we John Parker died. It's been 11 months and 2 days. Lately I find myself thinking about him more and more, maybe it's the upcoming date. The unwelcome reminder. But it could partially be because I am about to embark on my next piece of body art-- my dedication to him and what he has brought into and taken out of my life. I want it to be perfect, and lately I find myself obsessing over the details to the tattoo itself. I will accept nothing less than perfection, because that's what he was to me--perfect, even if he couldn't stay in this world.

I actually have a few pieces of work that I want to get done. My mother, as most of you know by reading previous blogs, will have been dead a year on July 22nd. I am getting a tattoo in her memory too. A rose vine going up my calf with 5 roses [representing each of her children] and thorns [representing the hardships that she and her children had to face] I also cannot believe that she has been gone for a year...and it's been two years next month since I've seen or hugged her. **sigh** Anyhow, I am also getting another one for my beautiful almost-two year old, Christian. I am getting either a portrait of him or his footprints. I am also getting a Latin phrase "bis pueri senes" meaning "Old men are twice children"-- it represents what I do for a living and my passion in life-- nursing. I have all of these planned and as of now, I only have one. But they each have such a powerful meaning.

Status on the divorce: we called it off. You don't have to tell me, I know it was sudden.Don't give me that face, I know what you're thinking. Our relationship has seemingly improved in the last couple of weeks. And if he wants to be there for our son and myself then I won't stop him-- that's all I ever wanted in the first place. We're getting an apartment together on May 31st.

Work [oh yes, I have a job now... I've had one for a month. I work at a rehabilitation and long term care facility] is hard. A lot harder than I expected it to be-- but it's worth it & I will make this work until I can get a spot at the hospital. Let me tell you though, it's not easy waking up before the sun.

Christian is beautiful and thriving each and every day and he makes everything in this world right. I absolutely adore him and his cute remarks and sassy character.

Missing You

"How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here."

-Pink Floyd: Wish You Were Here

This is how I remember us.

Subtitle: A little bit of everything

Anencephaly is defined as the absence of a large part of the brain and the skull. The prognosis for condition is fatal. John Parker Ennis's brain was unmeasurable. He had no brain and no skull. There was no chance of survival. Terminating the pregnancy was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my ENTIRE life. I, like so many other people, was strongly opposed to abortion. When I found out that he was a Spina Bifida baby, I was okay with having a child with defects because I knew that he could live a good life & I would have done anything he ever needed. I would have taken care of him. But days later, I found out that he was going to die regardless because his brain was missing. That changed everything. There was an option to continue through the pregnancy and wait for the miscarriage or deliver a stillbirth, but already having a baby to care for, that wasn't much of an option. My sanity was at stake.

*****

Two years ago I was pregnant with Christian and for the first time met this girl that I thought was downright hilarious. I didn't get what the big fuss was at the time-- I had heard rumors of course, but I'd never been a fan of taking other people's word when it comes to gossip. We were good friends but didn't become close until our husbands went to Aberdeen for a week. We spent every minute together. She introduced me to eating pizza rolls with sour cream. To this day, I still eat them that way. We went to Walmart [both huge and pregnant] and stay up until the wee hours of the morning when I would drive back to the apartment to get some sleep.

The Tuesday of that week we went to the beach. She slept on the sand while I watched the waves. After that, I went home to change clothes and shower because I had sand all over. I went back to her house that evening & I remember walking in her house and turning the corner. She was laying on the couch watching some tv show. She was lactating and I thought it was just the funniest thing that had happened all day because she was embarrassed. She was contracting that evening & counting them worried that she would go into labor any minute & her husband wouldn't be able to get there in time. That night we did end up going to the hospital to have her monitored. Neither of us could get a hold of our husbands. We were fighting with them pretty bad that week, and before they got home- I thought that it was just our hormones.

That Friday I cleaned our apartment spotless. Trust me, it's hard moving around that much when you're 30 weeks pregnant, but you manage to do it when you miss your husband and are excited about seeing him. Matt called me about an hour before he got to base. I decided to surprise him by being there when he got there [since I had to pick him up anyway]. That whole evening turned into a disaster & though Shana and I had no idea what was going on at the time, we knew our husbands were in trouble.

I finally picked Matt up at 4 in the morning. On the way home she called freaking out..."Do you think they murdered someone?" ... my husband was speechless in the passenger seat except for the tears that were falling. "No, Shana. They wouldn't be coming home tonight if they killed someone... good luck"

I won't go into detail what happened then because that part, to me at least, is personal. But the stress of the situation that just came slamming down on 2 innocent wives was enough to make me think that I had lost my son at 30 weeks. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I was crying hysterically all the time, and scariest of all I wasn't feeling Christian kick. I wasn't going to go to the hospital by myself & I didn't want to ask Matt to go with me since he was working. Shana, in her own state of mind--traumatized from everything as well and just a week or so away from her due date-- demanded that I go to the hospital. She would take me if she had to. And she did.

She sat there with me & together we were in shock. We knew that both of our lives would be forever changed, but in knowing that-- we also knew that no matter what happened, we both shared something that was unique & no one else would ever be able to relate to us. We were both in our 3rd trimesters of pregnancy & our husbands just threw away all our trust and ruined our lives. It was a silent union that day that neither of us spoke.

Over the course of the next couple of months we had our children and were working on our marriages. Working on rebuilding them. Some weeks it was harder than others and we would support one another emotionally. Others we were doing great and on cloud nine.

We had three fall outs during the course of our friendship- the first one was between her daughter's and my son's births. the second was after her husband was sent away and before mine was. And the third was when i had tried to forgive her for the words she said but realized I couldn't.

It was like a part of my soul was taken away from me & being used against me. She knew exactly how I felt about the situation & what I was going through but we were both going through so much that we couldn't be there for each other the way we needed a friend & that caused resentment. We're both the same in that we get angry and say harsh and hateful things, things that may or may not be true. We both know how it feels to be lied to, cheated on, let down, and torn apart. But when push comes to shove, I think we'll always share those months where we were united & keep them on the good side of the memories.

It was our third fall out & I was pregnant for the second time. The pregnancy wasn't planned but I wasn't one to plan life. I liked the surprise of it all. My marriage was already shot in the foot & I put on my best mask to cover it up. I was in denial, as always, assuming that everything was fine and that I was living the life of Cinderella.

That's when she said that she wished he would die. & I won't lie, I cried like a baby then just like I do now. It broke my heart that she said that. It was the lowest thing she had ever said & I was in shock.

I had been having heavy bleeding throughout the early part of my pregnancy & I had gotten the flu. I also didn't take my prenatals for the first month [which may be a cause for neural tube defects] because I didn't know I was pregnant.

The doctor at the naval hospital called a few days later with my test results for my quad screen and told me that it was bad news. He wanted to see me for more testing, and an ultrasound, but i had already given in my military id's and decals so that wasn't an option. Instead, I faxed the test results to my OB that I would be seeing in NC and I had an appointment set up a week later for Alabama. Four days after moving home I had my appointment. I was excited to bring my mother in law with me because she had gone with me to a few prenatal check ups with Christian.

I knew that something was wrong but I wasn't concerned with having a disabled child. I knew the baby probably had some form of spina bifida, but I didn't know how bad. The doctor came in and he was the sweetest man in the world. They couldn't hear a heartbeat so they wanted to do an ultrasound. The look on the doctor's face was absolutely terrifying when he saw what he saw... the baby wouldn't survive. There was no way. He had no brain & the spina bifida was to the worst degree. I could deliver a dead baby or go ahead and terminate the pregnancy.

My heart started to beat faster as I had to decide quickly what I needed to get done. Shelby was on the verge of tears, but my wall slammed down with the fiercest force I had felt EVER. It was the wall I would become best friends with. We decided what needed to be done & my heart ached. The rest of the day I spent with my friends and family. They came and left but we never mentioned what would be going on later that evening- though everyone knew. I went to get lunch with one of my best girlfriends from high school...I went to the hospital after that to get the confirmation that I needed that J.P. wouldn't survive. I found out then that we were expecting a boy.

That night when I was admitted into the hospital, I felt like the eyes of every person walking by were on me. The lady at the administrative desk asked "Why are you getting admitted?" I had to answer, "To terminate my pregnancy"... the nurse that did the evaluation asked, "When did he last kick?" I had to answer, "A minute ago". The nurse that brought me pain medicine said "You can take this so he won't survive anyhow..."

The weeks following were a blur. I stayed in bed and cried like a baby, only leaving the house to go to the funeral home to get our son cremated & get him a death certificate. Matt was irate with what Shana had said earlier that month, but I tried to tell him that it wasn't her fault. When I got home my myspace was blown up with messages and comments saying how what she had said was awful & she had lost a lot of friends over it. Somehow, I thought to myself that if I blamed her,... I wouldn't feel as guilty for what I had done.

But that wasn't the right way to approach the situation. What I did was my choice, and though I feel like at the time it was the best decision and really the only decision to be made, I feel like I did it to ease any suffering and pain he might have. I did it because I knew he would be an angel whether I prolonged the pregnancy or not. So, I don't blame you for his death. I don't think you killed my son. But that's not stopping me from trying to find the answers.

I was jealous and envious and I truly resented her for getting pregnant, but I never would have wished for her baby to die. Not ever. I tried to make amends but the bigger she got, the harder it was for me. It felt like I should have been pregnant with her & we should have been sitting on her couch watching Dr Phil, eating pizza rolls with sour cream.

Exactly 2 months after we lost our son, my mom died & my world fell apart again,... except I knew better this time what I had to do to keep it together for my family and siblings. I got her 200 red roses for her casket, helped pick everything out, and even spoke at her service. I didn't cry over her death until 5 months later. And even now, it's very hard for me to look at a picture without tearing up. The person I grew up knowing wasn't the person I thought she was... or so I'm finding out now that she's gone. I miss her because I know she'd be able to give me good advice if she were here.

In the midst of losing 2 important lives, my marriage went to absolute hell. Matt stayed out until 4 or 5 in the morning, we fought constantly, we even separated for 2 weeks once. He came back and I decided to live for me. No longer would I live for someone who had only betrayed my trust a million times before. I ignored him day in and day out & we didn't talk sometimes for weeks, though we lived in the same home. We sought marriage counseling & though I'd like to say we tried to make it work, neither one of us were motivated. On our anniversary we got into a big fight & ended up spending the day apart. On January 2nd, 2010, he told me he wanted a divorce. He moved out 2 weeks later.

It's good to hear that you and your growing family are happy. Everyone deserves happiness. No one deserves tragedy, despair, and heartbreak in their lives. But I want you to know that the drama is pointless-- it doesn't get you where you want to be in life. It doesn't make you a happy person.

So yes, when you look at my life realize that it's not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. I'm not afraid to admit that I've hit rock bottom & I'm working my way back up. But the one perfect thing in my life is my son-- the one that will always love me, never hurt me, and always keep me smiling. He's all I've got now & I'm okay with that.

The "D" Word

"It's never enough to say I'm sorry
It's never enough to say I care
But I'm caught between what you
Wanted from me, and knowing
If I give that to ya
I might just disappear."

-Theory of a Deadman

I am not afraid to admit that my marriage has failed (unlike some). I sit here today, and full heartedly admit that a marriage we tried to save has officially ended. There were so many factors when it came to deciding. Our son, our sanity, our arguments, our lack of communication, our falling out of love with one another. I can sit here and say that we tried working things out through marriage counseling. Up until this point, I felt like our marriage wasn't on equal ground. But making this decision has been the most equal thing we have done thus far. 50/50.

For the sake of your child. Some people believe that staying in a marriage for the sake of the child is important. Let me say though that when there are 18 more years before the child is due to move out & the arguments are only getting worse, that it's not the smartest idea.

A friendship. We have decided that we need to work as a team for our son's sake. That us being there for him is the most important thing. We've got to learn to be friends and stay civil to one another so that he can have the best.

No contest. We have also decided that courts and judges aren't necessary. This will be a "civil" divorce. That means we'll be seeing the same lawyer to draft up the papers.

My future? School, of course. Nothing about that has changed. I have been putting in a ton of job applications, so my semester is no doubt going to be stressful. I plan on getting back on my feet.

I won't lie, my heart is breaking each moment longer I think about getting the D word. We don't like to say the lengthier version. It's very taboo and I don't like it in my vocabulary. So, I'll ask my friends this... are you ready to join me on this journey? The last 7 months have been hell and no doubt NOT boring. This doesn't have to be the end of the world though. Together we can get through this, and absolutely anything else.

Love,

Anna

I could use a hero right now,

You could use someone to save.

Someone like me,

Someone who's not brave,
Someone who's not free.

Meet Me At My Window- Jack's Mannequin

And when I think things are starting to look up, I fall again.

2009

With each year that passes, I reflect on the changes I've made to my character. Though none of them are voluntary, I always like what I see when I reflect. Once, many years ago, when a year was winding down and I looked back on the changes from the first to the last day- I saw a girl who didn't know what she wanted. Well, truth be told, not much has changed about that. I still have no clue what I want out of life. But looking at that girl-- that lost soul of a person, I see an innocence and blindness to her. For this year has opened my eyes to many realities in this life. And that is one of the biggest changes.

On the first day of 2009, I started as a wife and a mother of one. Planning on keeping it that way, I was surprised when I found out we were expecting our second child. Surprised, yes, but utterly enthused about the prospect of loving another human being as much as I love my oldest son, Christian.

Not but seven days after finding out this news, I lost my husband. Not lost in the sense that I would never have him back, because three months later he was back in my arms. But lost in the sense that I could only hear his voice every so often, I could only know what he was thinking for sure when I got the stamped envelope that held all his secrets, I could only hold him in my arms every so often. And I thought that would be the worst of my year, but I was sadly mistaken.

After being discharged from the military, we packed our belongings and headed home for Alabama. Thrilled as I was to be coming back to the most familiar place of my existence, I was also deeply saddened by leaving the most independent chapter in my life behind. We paid our own bills, bought our own groceries. No family around for 800 miles, and it was just me, my husband, Christian, and the expectant baby.

But not a week after unpacking our suitcases, a doctor told us that our expecting son would not survive. Hadn't I been through enough? Hadn't I already given up this year? Within 12 hours of hearing the news, I was admitted into the hospital, and that alone broke my heart. I was giving up something that was so deeply routed in my values and morals. I was terminating my pregnancy. I wouldn't have done it if there were any way possible that my son would have lived, I wouldn't have done it even if there were just a 1 percent chance. But the chances of his survival were 0. Absolutely none. And so, I did what I had to do. I saved not only myself, but my son and family, from the pain of continuing the pregnancy.

That, I will always be sure of, was the hardest thing I ever had to do hands down. Even harder than planning my own mother's funeral exactly 2 months later. While I was grieving my son's death on July 22nd, 2009 [the 2 month mark], I was also finding out that my alcoholic mother was no longer in this world. She had died in her sleep. My first emotion was rage, and then I put up the wall that I knew so well already. The concrete barrier that prevented any emotions from seeping through whatsoever. That got me through the next several days.

This happened in the midst of my taking a course to get my Certification for my Nurse Assistant. Even on the day of her funeral, I went to class and took a test- which ended flawlessly, might I add. From there, I left to the funeral home and gave a speech to friends and family about her life. I hadn't known her the last year of her death because I was protecting my son. Protecting him from being around something so terminal and unhealthy. I didn't want him to struggle with his life like I had mine and I would preserve every bit of innocence that he had.

The only time he saw her was in her casket, and even then, he was far far to young to understand who it was and what this meant for his life.

By this point, I was in complete denial that my life had ended up in shambles. Even when my husband and I fought every day. Even when he moved out for 2 weeks. Even when we were beginning the process of of divorce, lawyers, and separate bank accounts. I was still in denial. Heavy therapy started, and by then the antidepressants started to kick in. Bud I didn't like the way I felt. I felt like my emotions were being blocked. Like I couldn't lift this wall and go through the grieving process the way normal people do. So I stopped taking my medicine.

And for the first time in months, I cried like a baby. For weeks, I was always on the verge of tears. By this point, just 2 months after my mom's death and 4 months after the baby's, I thought I was alright to get a job. Maybe I would have been if I hadn't had so many stresses in my life. One thing piled onto another, and eventually I snapped. I quit my job without ever calling them, I became depressed again. I never started back up the medication, but I did continue going to therapy.

My husband and I stated marriage counseling the same time I was working. So, in this, I was working as many hours as I could each week, going to school full time, taking care of my son- who sadly, wasn't getting enough of my attention at the time- eating little, living off caffeine, and smoking more than I ever had in my entire life.

It was a very unhealthy time in my life. And it's scary to think that it was just a few months ago that I was like this. Much has changed. My caffeine intake has slowed, as has my smoking. I'm not working- for the mere fact that daycare costs more than my income alone, and it's good for my mental well being at the moment- I'm focusing more on school and less on the negative.

I realized that I was beginning to feel the deep wounds heal and sting less when I forgot about the 6 month marker for my son. I simply overlooked the day, stopped marking it in my calendar. I gave a speech in one of my classes about my son's condition, and showed them his foot/hand prints and ashes. I trembled the entire time, but it was another marker that I overcame.

Looking back, I see a girl that struggled more than she should have had to. I see the beginning of a woman in progress. Yes, I'm still calling myself a girl because I know that I have much more to learn in this lifetime. I guess I could say that I'm proud of myself in the last year. I did stupid things in spite of everything I had been through, like drinking too much on 2 separate occasions after my mother and son's death. I'm not proud to admit this, and I don't like talking about it, but I have since made the deep rooted commitment to keep alcohol as far away from me as possible. I want to be a good mother to my son.

I could have been hospitalized for how badly I was depressed. I felt at times that I was on the verge of just that. But I didn't and I overcame. I guess everything is a little bittersweet. I still have so much to be thankful for like my son and family. For our health. FOR MY SUPPORTIVE FRIENDS THAT I WOULD BE LOST WITHOUT!!! For the food on our table each night. For being able to go back and fulfill a dream that I thought was dead-school. My future is changing each day. Yesterday I wanted to be a nurse, today I want to be an English major. Tomorrow who knows?

In 22 days I will have been married for 2 years. That's also something to be thankful for. The survival of my marriage thus far. I've taken up reading and writing much more now, and hopefully in the future I can be happy with each day, no matter what happens. That'll be my new years resolution.

And now you see how I've done it- reviewed my year and thought about it in the best light possible. I am one person, and I can not defeat all the bad that happens, but I can live with it in peace. My inner peace. Writing is the one place I can do that- sort things out in my head and learn to live with them.

Love,

Anna.

In a Funk

It's harder than I thought, blogging or journaling everyday. To me, they're both on the same level-- gushing honest facts and feelings that half the world could care less about. If I can find fifteen minutes in my day where I can do whatever I want, the last thing I want to do is journal/blog. I'd rather read or smoke a cigarette. Bringing out the emotions that I keep bottled up seems pointless, almost like I'm self inflicting pain on myself, reliving the emotions that I try to cover up.

Anyhow, with that said, I've been in a funk lately. Dazed and almost not caring about the outside world. I'd rather live my life through a fantasy of books and pages- imagining myself in a place where life is perfect, bills get paid, and there's food on the table. Okay, I have food on the table, but that's aside the point. I'd rather pay more attention to the characters problems than my own. Basically, I read too much.

That's not the reason for my funk though, I'm guessing. I just haven't been prioritizing time the way I should. I get my son 5 out of the 7 days in a week. The other two, he's in daycare. that's a lot of time to be entertaining a 14 month old baby, but I honestly can't remember what we did yesterday. It's like a fog is covering my brain and everything is mechanical. Like I'm just running through the steps to get through the day.

Anyhow, that's my little rant, and this is my blog for the day. Do I feel better? Eh, no. But at least I've done my part. Spent my fifteen minutes on words that will mean nothing to billions of people.

-The Mrs.