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.