It's All Fun And Games 'Till Someone Gets Battered

I've held my tongue long enough about a huge event in my life and even though I have received an heart felt apology and have forgiven this individual, I still find that I'm not healing from the events. I really feel it's because every day I have to pretend like nothing happened. So I'm putting all of that aside today in order to get the truth out and finally start the healing process.

We all know where I am now, happily pregnant with my second child, getting ready to enter my second marriage, and happily taking care of my home and family (pets included) but does anyone really know the truth about my first pregnancy or my first child? I will be changing names in this blog but chances are that won't help much because many of you know who my ex-husband actually is but for the purposes of those who don't know, we will just call him Jack.

I met Jack while dating another guy many years ago. We never clicked or anything of the sort and honestly I didn't give him much thought. That relationship ended badly with one swift back hand across my face for calling him out for cheating (the ex before Jack). Shortly after the break up, Jack showed up at my house for one of my many parties that was being thrown by my room mate at the time. We some how hit it off this time. I honestly didn't want another relationship so soon but the more we talked the more I realized we had a good bit in common...or so I thought. After only a few short weeks of "dating" I became pregnant. For anyone becoming pregnant for the first time, right after your 21st birthday, and coming from a strict southern baptist family...I was terrified. I didn't know anything about kids besides the little I learned from the two year old staying with me and the tid bits of baby sitting I did in high school. When I told Jack he seemed extremely thrilled. No one else really was that excited mainly because it was out of wed lock.

I quickly realized that unlike my ex-roommate, that I didn't want to raise my child in a roach infested trailer with no working stove, hot water, or heat so I quickly found an apartment for rent close by. I won't go into what happened with the roommate...I'll save that for another time. Jack and his best friend who just so happened to live in the same apartment complex as the one I was going to moved what we could salvage from the trailer. The couches, beds, and most of the furniture was simply too infested to bring. Within just two days I found myself in an empty, furniture-less apartment with a slowly growing belly. But honestly, I loved my apartment. At first Jack did everything he could to help. He found me a couch and helped me buy a few tid bits for the apartment but shortly that all changed.

One day after an exhausting 8 hours at work, I came home to find Jack had moved completely in. It was never discussed, he just simply did it. I tried to bite my tongue but honestly, since I was paying the rent and just my name was on the lease I didn't like the fact that he just showed up. He kept saying, "We're a family now." which irked me even more. We barely knew each other! But I continued to do my best to make it work. Within a few short weeks I found myself working a full time job, doing all of the cleaning, and all of the cooking and being demanded to have his dinner ready by the time he got home. Not a big deal right? Wrong! When you never know when he's coming home, that's a little difficult to have dinner ready and still hot when he walks in the door. Little arguments started quickly but I always folded and just put my head down and did what I was told like a good little girl. Even though I quit smoking, drinking, and doing drugs...Jack decided to take a different route. He first tried to hide it, then I suppose he got tired of that and started smoking cigarettes and weed in the living room. I explained to him that if I can't smoke, he couldn't either in the house. That's the same thing as me lighting up. But it didn't phase him one bit. His hours at "work" became later and later and more and more fights started about everything from laundry to the way I cleaned.

I first noticed something was really off about him when he began to demand sex from me. Even when I was about to throw up from morning sickness, he wanted it and wouldn't take no for an answer. If I would put my foot down and say no, he would get up and go watch porn on the T.V. but if I caught him he would always make up an excuse claiming that he was innocent in the whole matter. I've always had a huge issue with porn and that stems from several other sex addicted boyfriends I've had. I'm disgusted by the whole industry and he knew that..but obviously didn't care. I still tried to make the relationship work but after only two or three months I just snapped.

He always complained about the way I hung my jewelry up. I didn't have a jewelry box, so I took a nail, tacked it up on the bathroom wall, and hung my necklaces there. He claimed it looked trashy (even though I've seen it done soooo many times!). After one of his "long nights at work" he came home, went to the bathroom for over 45 minutes (which I'm sure we all know what he was doing in there), came out, sat on the couch and mindlessly watched t.v. for two hours. All of a sudden he says, "oh, I took your necklaces down."

"What?!" I exclaimed as I hopped up from the couch and ran to the bathroom to find all of my necklaces in a tangled head laying in the sink. It took me close to two hours to untangle them all. I'd had enough of this person coming in and controlling my life. I marched out to the living room and told him to pack up. We were done with the co-living situation. He immediately started crying and pleading but I just didn't want to hear it. I finally told him to get out. He said he would have his stuff out by the next day.

Sure enough, after work the next day when I arrived at home, he was gone and so was everything else besides my kitchen table and my small couch. I was relieved but irritated that even the dishes and microwave was gone. My parents graciously helped me restock what I had lost little by little and I continued to move on with my life. Jack began coming by whenever he wanted (he had a key), leaving me presents, and showing up at my job. The first thing he gave me (which he left on the table the day he moved out) was a "promise" gold ring. He left a note claiming that if I would accept the ring we could start over. I wasn't ready for that commitment and told him that I needed time. But time he didn't give me. He also left carnations in my apartment. Widely known fact about me...I HATE carnations. I had said that time and time again to him so in my mind, why would you buy me something I truly hate? The appearances at work became so common that one day I was told by my boss, "You need to tell him to stop coming by or you will be fired!" Crap! I told him to quit showing up every where I was and that he was about to get me fired but nope, he didn't listen. He still showed up and tried to walk behind the counter just to "feel the belly".

Now, I understand being away from your growing child is tough but buddy you brought that on yourself. After months of agony by him stalking me and crying every chance he got (be a man!) I finally decided to make a time for us to meet and sit down to talk about everything. But guess what?? He never showed! I shrugged it off and went on with my life not hearing from him for the remainder of the pregnancy. I did everything on my own. I even picked out my son's name by myself. I decided to give my son my last name because honestly I didn't think his father would ever be in the picture.

During labor I asked dad to call Jack to let him know the baby was coming. Dad did NOT want to but did just because I asked. Jack and his entire family showed up not long after. Considering that this was my first labor, I was scared to death, and down right sick (throwing up) I really didn't want tons of people in the delivery room watching me push out a kid from my vagina! The nurse shooed everyone out of the room to check my stats. Once alone she leaned over and said, "Who do you want in here? Don't be shy. Tell me who you want to stay and I will make sure everyone else leaves you alone." I didn't want to be mean so I just shook my head but she continued, "I can tell there is a lot of tension here and frankly, you don't need that. You are pushing life out of your stomach...the focus is on you...not them." I finally said I wanted my mom, my sister, and Jack in the room. The stocky nurse smiled, nodded, and stormed out of the room. Shortly after the people I requested came in and I could hear yelling from the hallway. Jack's family was raising hell demanding to be in the room. Of course, they were all pissed at me.

Fast foward, after 12 hours of labor my son was finally born. I was exhausted. I slept for a while, tried to unsuccessfully breast feed, and started welcoming guests who were coming to see the new baby. Jack's family shows up, no one says a word to me. Jack's mother said a few words to me finally and when his aunt walked in his mother said, "I'd like you to meet the mother of the baby-". The aunt butts in, "I don't care who she is!" and turns her back to me all while holding MY SON! I was mortified to have been treated so sourly. Over the next few days, postpartum depression sunk in. Jack came by every day to see his child and remained to do so for a few weeks after we got back home. He bought a crib and chester drawers for our son. I thought things were going good so we decided to try to make the relationship work again.

It only took a month for the demanding sex to start back up. It didn't matter to him that I suffered from after birth pains, or that I was diagnosed with displaysia (pre-cancerous cells on the uterus which had to be burned off). He always wanted it. Our fights started back up and we broke up about 5 times in one year. His obsession with anything sex related got worse.

Once our son was a year old, we found a sitter and I was "allowed" to go out with him and his friends to a local bar. After only a few drinks I found myself feeling sick. I wasn't new to drinking by any means so it seemed odd. We got in Jack's car, me in the front seat, his friend in the back whom we needed to take home and his other friend on the driver's side window talking to Jack. I at that point all but passed out. I couldn't move or talk. My eyes closed and my breathing slowed down drastically but I could hear and feel everything. Jack proceeded to pull my top down and expose my breasts. He began fondling them right in front of his friend at the window. He tried to get him to join but the guy thought it was wrong and just walked away. He then says, "Hey S---(not providing the friends name), check it out!" He jiggled by left breast and flicked his finger against my nipple. His friend replied, "That's just wrong. Come on man, knock it off." Thank you S---! Realizing that no one wanted to play but him, he drove S--- home, the whole time fondling me. Anyone who might have pulled up next to us at a stop light would have seen it. He dropped his friend off and drove me home to the apartment, still fondling. My movement started coming back to my legs and slowly moved up to my head. He quickly pulled my shirt back up and didn't say a word. Once home, he tried to help me out of the car. I took a moment to make sure my legs were working and once convinced, I bolted up the stairs and tried to slam the door before he got there. He blocked the door with his foot demanding to know what was wrong. Here's what I said, "You honestly thought I wouldn't know?! I was awake the whole time! How could you! Get out! I never want to see you again!" He busted in the door. I cowered in the corner and had no clue what to do. All I knew to do was scream. He kept trying to shh me saying the neighbors would hear but I kept screaming. Finally one of my neighbor's porch lights came on, he got scared, and walked out closing the door behind him. I don't think I need to tell you how I felt about all of this so we'll skip ahead.

After days and days of repeated phone calls and begging and yes, more crying I took him back. Stupid me? Yep you bet! But I did it for my son, not me. Over the next several years, the forceful sex gradually got worse. We had so much heat from our families about not being married that we finally decided to tie the knot. The wedding was beautiful and my parents did a fantastic job, but I was anything but happy. I did my best to put on a happy face to disguise my disgust for my new husband. The honeymoon phase never really happened. We got in fights on a weekly basis.

The sex became painful, literally. Several times I would bleed and beg for him to stop but for some reason, that just got him hotter. He began holding my hands behind my back and pushing my face down into the mattress. I get it, some people like it rough but when your wife is screaming in pain and bleeding...don't you think that's a little too rough. After each time he would throw me a towel and just walk off or go to sleep. I didn't want my "family" to fall apart because I knew how much my son loved his father so I endured all of it. I kept quiet when it hurt, I kept quiet when he was busted looking at porn on his phone, I kept quiet when he yelled at me for leaving one wrinkle in his shirt, I kept quiet when he wanted me to roll play that I was having sex with my best girl friend, I kept quiet when he wanted to pretend that I was her, I kept quiet when he asked his friend to join us, and I even kept quiet when he wanted me to pretend I was his nine year old daughter. I did so many roll playing sexual things that I'm truly ashamed. The few times I did protest, a huge fight would start and he would yell and call me names and just truly make my life hell until I gave in.

A young girl in the neighborhood quickly became a good friend of mine (she was 9). Jack began getting up from bed when she would stay over while I was sleeping. He would leave his pajama pants unbuttoned (years later I found out that she saw it all) and he even tried to jack off while sitting behind her. I put a stop to that...quickly! It got to the point where I would not sleep when she was there. I stayed up making sure that if he got up, I would be going out there too. I cared too much for this girl to have something happen to her.

It got to the point where I would wake up to him having sex with me. Several times I woke up to a nasty shot in the face of semen without any warning. He took pictures of me without me knowing (I found them on his phone), made me dress up in horrible outfits, and made me do more things than I can count. It was never enough. He finally admitted after me catching him over twenty times, that he had a porn addiction and wanted help. Ok, first step is admitting so I agreed to help. I deleted his account off of my computer and began monitoring all of his activity. Anytime I would leave the house while he was there, I would come home to find porn sites on the history. He denied all of them of course claiming that there was a virus or that they just popped up.

First let me say, I'm in school for computers. I'm no naive little chicken when it comes to the computer. I know how to get in there and look up anything that I want. You can't fool me when it comes to the computer...many have tried...many have failed. I finally gave up after always hearing the same thing, "It's a damn virus! I haven't been looking at porn! Maybe it was YOU looking at it!" Umm...ok? A virus doesn't do a particular Google search for a specific person. Didn't think of that did you? Also a virus doesn't look up specific videos on just "red heads" (his favorite kind of woman)and even if by some chance one virus did...why did you sit and watch the whole video? Mhmm...I can see that too. Busted!

Anyways, I gave up trying to help. It got so bad that I refused to sleep in the bed with him. I always slept on the couch. He was never home before 9 or 10 p.m. and on the weekends would sleep in until 2 or 3, then go out all night. I stopped all sex between us. One, I didn't want to be hurt anymore and two, I had no idea who else he was sleeping with. I'd rather not have any sexual diseases thank you.

Ready for the best part? Shortly after Christmas, he disappears for an entire night. He wouldn't answer the phone or return any texts. He shows up for a few minutes to change clothes, I ask him about the disappearance, he gets mad, leaves again and shows back up early the next morning to change clothes for work. I block the door demanding to know what is going on. He says, "we'll talk about it tonight." that's all he would say. I noticed his wedding ring was off so I replied by taking mine off and handing it to him while saying, "I'm supposing this is what you want to talk about?" He wouldn't respond and left. That night he comes home, walks in the door and says...and I quote..."I'm not in love with you anymore. I want a divorce."

I'm not going to play dumb here and lie. I begged. Even on my knees to get him to stay. Why?? Many reasons but the biggest was our son. I was willing to live the rest of my life in hell for that little boy. Our son, who was in his room during all of this heard me crying, stormed down the hall way, buffs up to his dad and says, "What are you doing to my mommy????" Jack looked mortified. The one man in my life who stood up for me was three years old. It took a three year old to stand up for a woman when his 25 year old dad should have. Needless to say, it was over. He left. Came to visit a few times then disappeared again. Found out a few weeks later that he was living with a new girlfriend. Where did he meet his new girlfriend?? At work! Yep! There ya go. Needless to say their relationship didn't last long. The day of our divorce he tried to beg once again for us to be together. I was numb from head to toe at that point. I vowed never to take him back or be put in that position by any man ever again. And I stand by that. My son deserves his mother. That's what he needs. And as much as he still loves his father I can't force myself to tell that little boy the truth.

Until now, no one has known the truth about our relationship. My family doesn't know, his family surely doesn't know. I just keep pretending and letting them smack me down saying it's my fault. I was even told by his mother that they all thought our son wasn't his. Lovely huh?

One more tid bit...while being physically raped at least once a week while we were married, I finally spoke up between sobs one night about him raping me. His answer..."It's not considered rape if you're married."

Ladies, get out if this is happening to you. Don't worry what people will say. Just get out. Don't be stupid like I was. Because I can promise you, when you lay down to go to sleep at night even years after it's ended you will still find yourself wanting to weep and expecting it to happen again. The pain never truly goes away.

Do I feel better after getting the truth out? Yes, a little. There's much more to tell but I'm tired, my son is home sick, and I have a lot to do today so that will have to wait. I'd feel much better if his family knew the truth about him, but I won't do that. It will all come out when the book is published and I'm sure I'll be slammed down by then and called all kinds of names but I can't remain silent any longer.

Silence Makes Your Brain Loud

I began the day by running late. Of course, today is a Friday and no one really wants to get up. Meghan didn't even want to get up. After the hustle and bustle of the morning, I came home to a quiet home (besides the pets), and found myself wondering what to do now. My first thought was to immediately jump on Facebook and play one of my many games but instead I found myself sitting in front of my newly acquired tadpole tank. I watched as the 15+ toad tadpoles slowly turned around all to look at me, looking at them ironically. My excitement can't help but build when I click the light on every morning and noticed that they've grown and starting to look more and more like toads. The muggy water seems almost inviting to me right now. They seem so peaceful, slowly floating around the tank, sucking on algae every now and then, and simply just growing. It even seems that they know they are safe in there, instead of outside where they came from.

I hide in my home all day away from the sun's piercing rays that make me sicker each time I step foot near one but this home doesn't protect me for everything. God protects us whole heartedly but even then, things are allowed to happen to us. Sometimes bad things. There is a reason for all of them but at this point in life I'd rather not learn any more lessons or learn anymore about humans in general. The more I encounter them, the more I dislike them. I'm starting for fully believe there are no decent people anymore. Even the one's who say they are Christian's and don't do anything wrong. Those are the exact one's who sit at home scoping out pornography, paying for sex, cheating on their so called "loved one's", and riping lives apart but then have the nerve to turn around and say it was the wives or husbands fault. "She wasn't giving it to me enough.", "She was always emotional.", "She got fat after she had our kids.", "She wouldn't have anal sex or let me tie her up and whip her.", I've heard all of these lines and many many MANY more. "It's not my fault I slept with other women...it's hers." Really? Stop and think about what you just said for a minute.

Let's see, the first comment "she wasn't giving it to me enough". Could it be that she busted her ass all day for YOU and YOUR children running here and there and doing everything she can for your selfish ass and simply was exhausted after the tiring day she had? Of course it doesn't help when you come home and literally YELL at her for some fuzz being on the carpet or dust bunnies way up high in the corner. Oh yeah, let me tell you baby...that puts a girl right in the mood! Also the fact that many husbands don't believe in foreplay anymore. They just expect us women to hop right on it and get busy.

The second comment "she was always emotional". Umm, hello?! We're WOMEN! We have something called hormones rushing through our bodies all the time which can make us emotional. We don't all sit there and stare at the TV or computer only saying, "mhmm" or "yep" for hours on end. We aren't always content with one word conversations or feeling like we are world's apart from our significant others while we are in the same room. I hear men say all the time that they will never understand women. K, here's the break down for all of you men out there. We are NOT as complicated as you think. Some commercials make us cry. Why? Many different reasons! It could be a good or bad memory, it could just be a sweet or sad commercial, or it could be that we are tired and for most women, crying gets out your frustration! Duh...simple! You yelling at the top of your lungs at us when something isn't our fault WILL MAKE US THINK IT'S OUR FAULT!!!!!!!!!!! It really doesn't matter if you say (while yelling), "I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT YOU! IT'S NOT YOUR DAMN FAULT SO QUIT ACTING LIKE EVERYTHING'S ABOUT YOU!" Umm....again, hello?! You. Are. Yelling. At. Us. If you are yelling about something in the house, yes we automatically think that we didn't do something right. If you yell because your shirt got ruined in the wash, yep, again... since we washed it, we feel it's our fault. Men don't realize that we strive every day to do what's best for them. I realize that not all women are this gracious and some are down right mean so please don't start sending me hate mail telling me off and what not for something YOUR ex did. Not my fault (and yes, I won't be crying about that one). Most men expect us to be perfect; ALWAYS!

Speaking of expectations: gaining weight after having kids is N.O.R.M.A.L.!!!!! You try carrying around a baby and see how your body reacts. The simple fact is, having a baby is a miracle! It's amazing what all the woman's body can do. Research it, you'll be surprised. Getting mad at us because we don't have the energy to stand in front of the sink washing dishes for 30 minutes, simply does not help the situation any. It makes us feel worthless. Women forget that being pregnant and having a baby is a FULL TIME JOB IN ITSELF! No, I won't always cook you dinner. No, I won't always have all of the clothes done. No, I won't always laugh at your crude sexist jokes, be able to stand the heat without whining about it, remember everything I was supposed to do for the day, or even feel like putting on my make up every blasted morning! And just because we had already had the baby, doesn't mean our body will just "bounce" back to it's original shape and size. That's moronic to think that would happen. If you don't want to be with her b/c she's not "attractive" to you any more then just be a doll and tell her. Go find someone else while she finds someone worthy of her and her NATURAL body. Idiots. I swear. The plastic surgery rate is ridiculous. All we ever see on tv, movies, websites, in public, etc are a bunch of fake ass women. And of course, when we see you watching their perfectly toned ass or voluptuous breasts bouncing past...of course we feel bad. Again, not that hard to understand us!!! I know for a FACT that men don't like it when their women see a man with rippling muscles on top of muscles with a tan, toned, and shirtless body jogging down the road. Mhmm, not fun when the tables are turned is it? You expect us to keep our eyes on your slowly softening frame while we find porn pics and videos on our computers that you have been watching of busty red headed women taking it up the ass and in any other hole. Do you not realize that these women are PAID for this?! Just because she (very poorly) stares into your eyes *cough cough* (camera) and says, "oh yeah, give it to me baby. I love it when you do that." doesn't mean she actually LIKES it. Geez! It's called acting! And no, just because you help pay the bills and put a ring on our finger does not mean you are PAYING us for the disgusting things you expect us to do. BTW, do you even know what all we go through to even remotely look good for you?? We try our best to get you to look in OUR direction when we walk in the room instead of that overly dyed, red headed girl over there.

Here's another break down for you. When you blurt out what your favorite hair color is on a girl or what your favorite type of woman is...stop and think first! If you say anything besides what WE look like, of course we don't think we are perfect for you. Obviously, if I don't have the hair color your love or the tall legs that you drool over...what makes me think that you really want me for me? Want to know what my perfect man looks like?? Look at who I'm with! I chose him for a reason. Get that??? CHOSE! I wasn't suckered into it. It was my choice to make just like it was yours. So why then do you tell me or act like you don't find the one you are with perfect for you??? Is all of this really that difficult??

We want to feel loved, we want to feel special, and we want to feel like you want us. Don't you want the same thing? Chances are you get it from her, but the question is, after all she's done for you...do you give the same or more back? It's not enough to tell us that we are beautiful or "perfect", you have to show us. Actions speak louder than words so when you come to us and say that you love us and turn around and sneak in videos of chicks with their legs spread wide open with hairless...well everything, and secretly make sexual remarks to other women (all the while thinking that we NEVER know) don't you think that shows us that nope, you do NOT love us? It's called self control. It's something that everyone has but as I'm seeing more and more, no one seems to remember.

Note to everyone out there who has cheated on me: No, I never made you cheat on me. That was all on you. If I wasn't what you wanted me to look like or if I didn't do the "things" you wanted me to do in bed then you should have done one of two things. 1) dump me, and instead of sneaking in special appearances with someone else while I wait at home doing everything for YOU, just go on and leave me alone. or 2) get over your fantasies about what you think ALL women do and be happy with the things I DO for you! Remember, just because I do something, really doesn't mean I like to do it. I do it because you like it, and I speak for MANY MANY women, but at some point I have to put my foot down and say enough is enough. I WON'T do that.

As for me and my life, I do what I can. I do my best to take care of the house, my fiancé, my son, and my pets all while carrying a baby inside and still try to look some what decent. I may not always be perfect and certainly not feel perfect but I do expect the one I'm with to think I'm perfect...for them! Women: I suggest you demand the same thing or get the hell out of that relationship before it's too late and you find yourself hearing the same words I have, "You made me cheat".

Now to get my overly-exhausted arse up from this computer to start cleaning up what I already cleaned yesterday all while praying that I don't either lose my balance and hurt myself or the baby and that the dog for just one day doesn't mess up something else! The house may be silent, but my thoughts are anything but...

Until next time,
Sarah M.

Lies In The Devil's Playground

Have you ever been lied to? I'm certain everyone who comes across this will answer yes. The lies I have been told cover everything from the most minor to the most traumatizing. I've lost most of my friends over the years because of this same issue. Their lies just kept getting more extreme. I even had a "friend" take my identity and rack up well over $1,000.00 in fake checks with my name on them. To me - that's a lie. I've had friends lie and say they love someone, then they cheat. I've had friends lie and say they love ME, and then they stab me in the back. And of course, the biggest of all is I had a lie filled marriage. He lied when he said he loved me, he lied about where he and his friends went and what they did (or better yet WHO they did), he lied about wanting working late, he lied about a certain girl he worked with, and the biggest of all...he lied about wanting us to be a family. He made that very clear the day he walked out on me and my son.

Even though THEY are the one's who lie, why am I always the one who gets dealt the pain? My trust in humankind has been shattered to a pulp. I've tried my best to let it roll off of my shoulders and keep on truckin' but as my age progresses, it seems to get harder to do. I pray about it, I try to push the memories away, and I forgive all who cross me but for some reason I still feel the pain of it all. I'm to the point now that I can't even stand it when my six year old lies to me and says "Yeah! I cleaned my room!" all to find it in shambles with objects thrown here and there like a tornado freshly came through only touching this one particular room.

So why do we do it? Especially when there's always SOMEONE who knows the truth? For example: I was riding my bike one fall day at my parent's house when I accidentally ran it into one of moms terra cotta pots and broke it into several pieces. I looked around to see if she or anyone else was watching and once satisfied that no one was, I continued to play like nothing was wrong. Once I was asked if I knew what happened to her pot and I replied with something along the lines of I didn't know and it could have been a dog. I never did get in trouble for it. Well, about a year ago I brought up that pot on the phone with my mom and she replied, "Oh hunny, I know. I was watching you from the kitchen window when you did it. I've always known." and then she laughed. Parents always seem to know when you're lying. I chalk it up to a sixth sense kind of thing haha.

But doesn't that mean that our Father is watching us too and knows every lie we either do or think? Lesson here is as follows: don't do anything that you wouldn't want God to see or hear. As for me, I'm certainly working on the hearing part! I have promised many times to do what God instructed me to do and lo and behold, I'd turn the other cheek and do what I wanted instead. Time to amp it up and do things right!

Love to you all,
Sarah M.

R.I.P. Mr. Cotton Ball

Today started out decent enough; my cold seemed to be getting better, Alex's cold was almost non-existent, I got a good bit of housework done, and today was my grandmother's birthday. Shortly after lunch time the bad news started trickling in. First, Matt started feeling the effects of the cold that I and my son had been sharing; second, Matt got some bad news at work (which I can't publicly talk about at this moment); third, My cold came back strong (Alex's as well); fourth, I messed up where my grandmother's party was going to be held at; and last but certainly not least, we found out that Matt's mother's dog, Cotton passed away today in his sleep. What makes this news tragic is the fact that there wasn't a person who met that sweet, round dog that didn't like him! You couldn't help but love his plump belly and short little legs. From the moment I first walked in the door at her house he greeted me and every day there on. It used to be our ritual that I HAD to sit down on the couch when I walked in the door just so he could plop down beside me and get his belly scratched and he certainly wouldn't let me forget my duties! To hear this news was heart breaking, even though most of us knew it was coming. The old boy lived to be 14 years old, had two tumors growing, and had the start of kidney failure. He will be missed dearly.

This event is what is leading me to write tonight. As an ex-veterinarian assistant I've seen this happen more times than I can count but it never gets easier. Have you ever wondered what it is that draws us, as humans, so close to animals? Each person is different and we each have a certain animal that we connect to more. For instance: My fiancé, it's Tic Tac our miniature dachshund; me, it's my cat Meghan (pictured below); and my son Alex, strangely enough it's crickets!

The story behind Meghan is easy enough to understand why we have such a deep connection: When Alex was about three years old I had a cat named April whom decided that she would LOVE to get "knocked up" and that she did. Once she got big enough, I used to lay on the floor beside her with my hand on her stomach being able to feel each and every kitten as they moved about inside of her. After a few months the day came when it was time for her to give birth. I sat on the hard kitchen floor patiently awaiting the arrival of the kittens and lo and behold the first one finally came into the world. April diligently tore open the sack that all kittens are in when they first come out, and ate the remains (don't ask me about this one...supposedly it's healthy for them to eat the sack!). She then began to clean the little black and white kitten from head to toe making sure nothing was left on the boy. April paused, looked up at me, let out a low wailing sound, and began to push out the second kitten. This time though, she glanced down at it, smelled it for a second, and pushed it to the side. I watched in horror as the little black and grey tabby kitten struggled to find air inside of that sealed bag. I tried my best to get April to pay attention to the new kitten but once another kitten popped out and she immediately got to work on cleaning the third kitten, I knew something was wrong!

I did the only thing I could think of, which was to grab a sharp kitchen knife, slice into the bag and free the kitten myself. Once it was all said and done with, April had seven kittens (one too many for her nipples) and she cleaned all of the kittens except that one tabby. So once again I refused to let the kitten die and started working on cleaning the kitten softly with a warm washcloth until she was perfectly clean. I tried time and time again to get April to let this kitten nurse. It never did happen so...(have you guessed it yet?) I bought a kitten feeding bottle and milk and proceeded over the next few weeks to nurture her myself. April tried three different times to actually sit on that kitten and suffocate her.

Now before all of you think that I had some homicidal cat, let me explain this. When a mother cat smells that a kitten will not make it, she will completely avoid the kitten and simply just let it die. There could many different explanations for this but no one actually knows the true reason for this (they just guess!) So April obviously felt this particular kitten wouldn't survive. I, on the other hand, refused that idea and continued to care of her to the best of my ability. We became attached at the hip. I learned later that if you help birth a kitten, feed it, clean it, and nurture it that he or she will honestly think that you are their mother! They will grow up not knowing the difference between a human and a cat. They simply just think you are one of them. So this explains our attachment to each other. By the way: that little kitten was later named Meghan (pictured here) and is now three years old and doing quite well! (And yes, as I type this Meghan is right beside me)


After saying all of this, I know each and every person has a story about why they are so attached to their pets. Maybe they saved your life? Maybe you saved theirs? Maybe they were the only "friend" not to turn their backs on you or maybe they are your only family? Whatever the story may be, it's certain that animals will always have a special place in mankind's hearts. But before I end this let me say, wouldn't it be wonderful if we could all think like animals? Liking someone for who they really are instead of what they look like??? Food for thought!

We love you Cotton and we certainly won't forget you and your crazy antics! Rest in peace my dear friend.

Much love,
Sarah M.

What's Your Song?

Do YOU have a song? I don't mean a song you like, a song that was written in your honor, or even a song that has your name in it. I mean a song that every time you hear it, you just have to stop. You know that it was meant for you to hear at that certain time in your life. A few days ago I finally found "my" song...

I was on my way home from taking my fiancé to his once a month drill for the National Guard when it all hit me. A non-friendly traffic light decided to skip over yellow and go straight to red, which of course my brakes didn't like one bit considering the crying sound they made. I glanced down at my now five months pregnant stomach pushing again the seatbelt and suddenly I felt extremely overwhelmed. Attempting to ignore the feeling swelling up in my throat I proceeded on once the light turned green and headed for the I-20 interstate on ramp. A snoring noise from the back seat made me avert my attention to my mirror adorned with red, white, and blue star necklaces and a car air freshener tree with the American flag pattern. I glanced back in the glass to see my son sleeping with his face pressed against his seat belt, sweat beads glistening on his forehead, and fingers twitching along to whatever he was dreaming about. I couldn't help but feel sorry for the six year old since he had been sick with a nasty head cold for three days already and was far from over it.



Panic struck so quickly over my entire body that it felt hard to breathe. I suddenly didn't feel like I could handle being a mom again. I felt that I barely survived the last pregnancy let alone raising him on my own. I knew in just a few short months that I would have three mouths to cook for, three people to wash clothes and dishes for, three people counting on me to fix boo-boo's, play games, go shopping, dress them, and clean for them. How was one woman supposed to do all of this? I was scared for the baby girl who would have to enter this horrible world. I didn't want her to go through what I had gone through in life and more so I didn't want her to "develop" my certain abilities and physical downfalls. I was exhausted from all of the running around and errands that had come into play over the past several weeks so I figured the panic was coming from just that. I glanced around at my surroundings quickly to try to find a parking lot to pull into just to catch my breath for a minute before making the trek home when suddenly the song "Beautiful Beautiful" by Francesca Battistelli came on my local Christian radio station.
(To listen to the song please visit this link:
http://www.playlist.com/playlist/additem/792443921)
As soon as the music started playing I felt fine so I continued onto the on ramp. I had no idea what the song was, seeing as I'd only caught the tale end of it twice before but as I listened to the words she sang, I just KNEW that was for me! Yes, even good days end in rain as she says but life is beautiful. A calming sense came over me as I realized that all of the strife and pain I was feeling at the moment would go away in time, just like every other time I've felt pain and that the clouds would soon lift.

As I began to feel more calm I still felt the need to cry and let out everything I've been holding in for fear of people laughing, not understanding, or simply not listening.

As tears began flooding out of my eyes I felt once again that I was going to have to pull over. Just as I was about to make the drastic decision to pull over and weep someone seemed to have hit a slow motion button as I looked up through the windshield and saw a hawk. I watched the hawk as he was inches away from my windshield spread his wings and seemingly floated through the air. I could see every detail of every feather. I could see his talons clutched against his belly. But what struck me to most stunning was I could see his eye, staring right into mine. Just as suddenly as he appeared and slowed down time, he sped off and time screeched back up to normal speed. My breath caught in my throat and I couldn't do anything but smile.

(Let me stop here for a minute to give you some background information. Ever since I was a little girl in frilly little pink lace dresses, if I were to get upset I would somehow find a feather on the ground. I always picked them up even though my mom would be screaming at me in the background talking about how unsanitary and nasty bird feathers were, but I didn't care. I acquired quite a collection over the years and when I hit 19 I decided to get feathers tattooed on my upper arms. In my opinion, I wouldn't have to find feathers on the ground anymore...they'd always be there for me to glance down at if I felt sad and alone. That was always my way of knowing that someone was out there watching out for me. Since that time, I have lost my collection of feathers and don't tend to find many on the ground anymore. With that being said....back to the story)

I smiled knowing that the hawk was positioned there for just me to see. He was there to show me that the "feathers" will always be there. Instead of God showing me the molted feathers on the ground, he decided I needed something more...the whole bird! The living, breathing, moving, SEEING bird. The only words I spoke out loud the whole way home was a simple yet well meant, "Thank you God."

I will forever hold on to that sight and feeling of being completely loved, cared for, and watched over, and the song will always be my reminder.

So I ask again...do you have a song? If not, maybe you just aren't listening...

God bless,
Sarah M.

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” ~Oscar Wilde

Notice to the right I have a survey for everyone who visits. It's a very simple question that many people answer without even thinking about it. I'd like to know what the majority believes in to better help me describe my point of view on things.

As a starting entry in this blog, I find it hard to figure out where to start. Some of you may already know who I am and what all my current life pertains but some of you who stumble across this have no idea. Through this blog I will be covering everything from my struggles as a mom, a soon to be Army National Guard wife, my current pregnancy, my loves, my dislikes, my fears, my joys, and most of all my struggles. Life may have started out simple enough for me but by the age of nine everything took a very strange and mysterious turn...for the worst. We will cover everything in due time but for now I want you to really think about the question asked of you in the survey.

Do YOU believe in angels and demons?

My answer will be coming up shortly but for now I'd like to end with this:

Be careful for what you think is real, fake, or what you believe you see. The perception of things is our greatest downfall. You may think you know...but you have no idea.

Much love,
Sarah