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Ten months ago today the my wife was admitted to the hospital; we had just celebrated our ninth year of marriage.
I was at the start of my final semester of a three year masters degree (M.Div.) that was particularly intense; a mere four months earlier we had welcomed our fourth child into the world. And now, my wife was in excruciating pain with hive-like boils head-to-toe.
What I didn't know then is that our ER visit would end in a 7-day hospital stretch. Or that six days into that stretch her heart rate would drop below 30 and she would look questingly into my eyes: "am I dying?"
Ten months ago today my wife was admitted to the hospital.
This is our story.
It's not a typical story: we secretly eloped 2500 miles away from where we both grew up. We told our parents by email three days later. I was 18.
Being three years older than me, she was working full-time at her first after-college job which required her to move the furthest possible distance from where I was finishing my last semester of a two-year degree at the local community college. We only lasted six months. At Christmas, I visited, we eloped, and I stayed. Yes, that means I didn't finish my degree.
I would one year later, though, when we moved back. I had plans to get a bachelor's degree, then a masters, then a PhD in Philosophy. When we found out we were pregnant, I decided not to go through with it. Instead, I found a local company, pretended I knew what I was doing the media, and sneakily learned on the job from google and observation. I worked Monday through Thursday, my wife Fridays and Saturdays. One of us was always available to watch our son – and in two years we'd saved enough for the downpayment on a house that we loved two miles down the road.
Fast forward to the birth of our second child: a joy! I had developed a number of marketable skills at my job and was comfortable with my co-workers. And then they fired me for religious religions reasons.
We had been trying to make the best decisions for our family and wound up converting to a form of Christianity that the company disagreed with. I started free-lancing and we made enough to get by. But what I really wanted to do was something academic (or so I thought).
Being counseled by our priest to look towards seminary degrees, we inquired: can one be admitted to a master's program without a bachelor's degree. We were surprised that the answer was yes. A fraction of the student body can. After six months of tests and application papers, we were accepted.
This move of faith required us to sell our beloved house and move across the country (again). There was no student housing.
Our first dwelling place was in a home that had been vacant for 7 years on account of a murder that had taken place there (lovely, indeed). It was mice-infested, moldy, and disgusting. We only lasted there three months. Two weeks after our third child was born, we had to be emergently re-located.
I should mention that the location (geographically, culturally, etc.) was far from desirable. One of our first days there we found a nest a snakes in the back yard, discovered the mice, and found that the basement flooded. A month after that, a bear decided to dig a massive whole and live under our porch. Then the basement ceiling collapsed. And then we all got sick. Very sick.
In between trying to keep up with the demanding (40+ hours a week) schedule of school and church services, take care of my two-week postpartum wife, and then two toddler children, while lending a hand with the infant as able, I would spend evenings packing up our belongings and relocating them to our new dwelling place. The drive was twenty minutes one way. But at least our new dwelling place was right by the school. In the midsts of all this, we purchased a second car which stopped working, got a flat on our mini-van right when the second car finally started working only for long it enough for it to malfunction on a mountain road on which we were driving with our three kids in the back to pick up the van!). We simply traded them out at the shop. Then, it was the car's turn to get a flat.
That was my first month in the program.
We had quit our jobs and moved across the country for this. And now we were living in an old orphanage building which was far nicer than anything else we could find but as fragmenting a place as ever (no Feng shui).
The following months would see us in and out of the hospital with mysterious illnesses (maybe from the mold?).
Nonetheless we had made it. We were almost at the end of a three year journey which, for the most part, was patterned, month after month, like the events like the ones just described above. We were almost there. I would graduate from a two-year associates degree to a Masters Degree. I would go on and do a PhD and serve as a priest. I would provide for my family materially and spiritually and the community likewise. That was ten months ago today.
Ten months ago today my wife was admitted to the hospital. And I took over 100% childcare, cooking, cleaning, and caring for her as these latter things allowed.
She was seven days in the hospital. The illness was a mystery. I thought she was going to die.
When they finally got her home, she had to be holed up in a room most days and most nights by herself, because of pain and confusion from medication.
I spent most of that semester at home, attending only the necessary classes. I was taking care of the four children (one of them less than a year old), cooking, cleaning, finishing my thesis, and discussing parish options with the bishops. None of the parishes would work for us. So, the job at the school until something opened up.
But that was ten months ago.
In May I graduated as valedictorian (somehow?). School bills and living expenses were miraculously covered and we walked out debt free.
The day after the graduation I was offered the job that we had been waiting for. It wouldn't pay enough for us to survive. And we would have to move out of the apartment which we had occupied for nearly three years. The housing options weren't great: pretty much akin to our first dwelling.
We had one-month. And we didn't know what to do.
We dropped everything, I lost my direction to this existential twist of fate, and moved back to the place we had moved from, a mere two miles from our old house.
Now, my wife works full-time. She loves it. And she thinks its good for her brain-recovery, which she feels is still sometimes fuzzy due to the heavy medication they had her on ten months ago.
I am a full-time stay-at-home dad. I cook, I clean, I sleep, I wake with kids. I started homeschooling this year because of the lack of (good) public schools and (affordable) private schools int he area. It's hard but I like it. That is my life. I've settled into my role; my children and wife are the most important and anything I can do for them is calling enough. That's purpose enough.
But sometimes I wonder…
Money is tight sometimes… I feel responsible for this… Shouldn't I be providing? I got a degree and it was an ordeal – and my wife and children suffered through the difficulties with me. And now what? For what?
I feel useless.
I've been told this is catastrophic thinking. Maybe it's mild depression? Anxiety? Often I feel that I am failing at my one, singular job: raise the kids with kindness. Am unkind? I get stressed out sometimes and feel like crying. I'm tired. Very little downtime. Sometimes the kids won't listen; I've raised my voice at times too – and I suffer extreme guilt over it. Am I messing them up? Am I a bad father?
Breathe.
Ten months ago today my wife was admitted to the hospital. I had no idea what was going to happen. But I can say this: I am grateful for her every single moment. I am grateful for my children and our family. Things can change in an instant.
Now, having written this, I feel better.
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ReplyDudeeeeee, dude. Dude? Dude. You, my friend, are NOT a bad father. You've done all that you could to sustain them and do the best that you can. You've supported your children, as well as your wife. Don't ever feel a certain way. There are always going to be financial challenges, but you are going to make it. This is only a chapter of your life- you still have an entire novel. Remember that. These hard times are going to help you guys grow as people, as well as a family. Keep your faith. Put God on top of the list, and pray. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, don't lose that. Also, don't be afraid, to be honest with your spouse. You two are in this together. You guys are one, remember? There are going to be difficulties in a marriage, as well as a family, but you're going to get through it. All of you guys will. Continue on with your journey. Don't ever feel like you're not enough, because you are. And for raising your voice, there need to be some ground-rules. You guys need to set some rules so the kids don't walk all over you guys. I hope this helped a little bit... You're going to get through this, my friend. Keep going! Keep God in your life! Tell your wife and kids that you love them. Take whatever life throws at you. I wish you luck!
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