Saturday, January 20, 2018

My Story-Pt. 3 The Big Move





MY STORY PT. 1, PT. 2
This part of my story is a little tricky to tell because there's a lot to it, but I'll do my best!
A little background:
My husband, Russell, is 11 years older than me. He had two kids when we got married, and although he said we could have as many children as I wanted, he did say he'd like to be "done" when he turned 40. Of course, I totally understood that, and as a 20-year-old, I felt like we had PLENTY of time! I agreed and supported that request 100%.
Our youngest son, Conner, was born in February of 2006, about six weeks after Russell's 40th birthday.

Without getting too into the personal, spiritual side of this, let me just say that I didn't feel done. I not only wanted at least one more child, I KNEW there was at least one more "up there", waiting to be part of our family. I knew it like I knew the sun would rise, but I didn't tell my husband. I didn't tell him because I knew him well enough to know that if I asked, he would have had more children, and I knew he was ready to be done. I didn't tell him because I was trying to respect his wishes. I had agreed to them, after all. For the record, if I were giving advice to myself now, I'd say TALK TO YOUR HUSBAND!
Anyway, we took permanent action to eliminate the possibility of pregnancy. That day, I sat at my computer watching the clock. I knew what time the appointment was, and I sat there talking myself out of calling Russell to talk HIM out of that appointment, knowing that if I asked, he'd turn around and come home. I married a good man, you guys.
I didn't call him.
When the time for the appointment arrived I laid my head down on my desk and sobbed. I cried to my Heavenly Father for forgiveness. I cried for forgiveness to the child, or children, that I felt like I was abandoning. I cried for myself and what I perceived as weakness. And I cried for my husband, who had no idea I was crying at all.
That day something was triggered in me. I started to feel anxious. I started to feel like nothing was good enough. I wanted to move away from Springfield, where we'd lived our whole marriage. I bought the first of what ended up being a string of NINE dogs, only to rehome them all.
Don't get me wrong, life was still good. I was beyond blessed and I knew it. It's not like I walked around in a stupor all the time. There was joy to be found, and I often found it.

We're big on Disney around here, can you tell?
And Halloween.

And I had some stinkin' cute kids:

But that anxiety was stewing. I just felt this feeling of needing something more, and in January of 2008 we moved our family to Texas. Russell is from there, his family is still there, and my parents had just moved there so it seemed like a good idea.
We moved to Mckinney, where the houses are big and so are the taxes. We bought a little three-bedroom house across the neighborhood from my parents, and got the kids in school.
Russell, who was a couple of semesters into his Master's program, worked at AT&T in Arlington, so he transferred his credits to UT at Arlington to continue his education. Arlington is about an hour and 20 minutes away from McKinney, if the traffic is good, so we honestly didn't see much of him during this time.
That put me at home with five kids under 10 in a 1500 square foot house with NO back yard. That anxiety started rearing its head, and I started retreating to my room more and more often.

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