Plagued by teenage
pregnancy, I struggled with self-worth. I guess truth be told I never
felt worthy of many things in life. It was a dark cloud of depression and
anxiety. I remember having it most of my life.
I’m going to pause
here for a minute to address what depression and anxiety looks like to
me. It is waking up each morning and getting dressed. It is putting
on the best outfit I can, the make-up that flatters my appearance and making
sure I have great hair. It is a constant battle of thoughts and
purpose. It is dark to me yet looks like light to the world. It is
being held down by nervous feelings, a queasy stomach and feelings of fear. It
is not eating one minute and overeating the next. It is hiding from
people in public to avoid their stare, gaze or even smile. It is sleeping
as late as I can in hopes the day will go by faster. Depression and
anxiety often go hand in hand – for me, depression feeds anxiety.
Depression was getting up every day and attacking the day as thoughts, fear and
anxiety attacked me and hindered me. It is answering the phone with a
happy voice yet feeling worthless in my attempt to hide my self-assigned shame.
It is smiling at everyone around while holding my breath hoping no one else saw
me. Anxiety is a silent, yet powerful sense of fear and doubt. It
literally teaches you to live inside of a shell that others can’t see.
Ok – back to the story….
At 17 years old I
had to finish high school, learn to be a mom, work full time, pay for
childcare, live, love, become an adult and still be me. And I had no idea
who me was. Talk about a whirlwind of struggle. I had this little
human life – this perfect most undeserved gift, a baby boy – depending on me to
get it together. He was definitely a holding baby. He loved to
share kisses and be swaddled. He adored the sound of my voice and slept
so well. He loved to be rocked and hear me sing. Holding my hand while I
talked to him always melted me. He often saw angels and shared with
me what they looked like and who they were there looking over (more of this
later). He was perfect in all ways a tiny human could be. He was
breath when I couldn’t breathe – he was life when I couldn’t see – he was
warmth when I felt alone and cold. He was my heartbeat when my heart
wanted to stop beating. He was my
reminder that God’s perfect love was given just for me. This perfect baby boy
Chandler, the molder of my life, gave me purpose this side of heaven. I
may not have felt worthy, but I knew letting him down was no option after all;
he was my gift from God.
My parents were our
lifeline for a while. Mom helped guide me with motherhood – dad helped
remind me that I was still beautiful – my sisters were the only friends I could
count on. That was life as I knew it. There were some people in the
church who made it a point to speak life into me every Sunday. I knew
they were praying for me – but I was ashamed they were. I had lost sight
that prayer is what changes people. Prayer is what makes us whole.
Prayer is what carries us in good and bad times. Others standing in the
gap for you is often times what carries you through. Somewhere in the
mist of life some of us, like myself, lose ourselves. We go out and
perform permissive will and pray that perfect will be done. We seek for
acceptance of those around us when in all reality, the Father is the only one
we need, and He has already accepted us. In this season of my life I knew
God hadn’t forgotten about me. Actually, I began to realize not only had
He not forgotten about me, he loved me more now than I remembered.
One Sunday in
church, I felt the Holy Spirit grab me – I was shaken to the core.
Growing up Southern Baptist there was no Pentecostal praise and worship, jumping
over the pews or anything like that. There, in that pew, God settled my
lonely spirit and I cried out to Him to free me from my own bondage –and, He
did.
The door opened for
a full-time job at a local real estate office. I didn’t have to apply for
the job – the lady told me that she knew I was the perfect one. An
elderly lady of the church gave me a vehicle. This was a 1984 Ford LTD
that was red in color. This car was super ugly. I’ll give you a
moment to look at it.
Trust me, not my choice, but proud of it I
was! It would get me to work. It would get Chandler to
daycare. It would bring groceries home and get us to the doctor.
Granted, the radio in it was push button – the dial would jump clear to the
other side but it worked. That car was so hot – no air conditioner –
could not get below a half of a tank in fuel or the carburetor wouldn’t
work….but, she was mine. Remember, I’m still very much at home. I
am a newly graduated 18 year old girl with a baby who worked at TJ Maxx.
I really enjoyed that job – but GOD! God came through for me a full time
job. I was given the job of an office coordinator and went from minimum
wage to $8.00 per hour and from 20 hours per week to a full on 40 hours.
I had not been that excited about anything in a very long time. The
owners of the company and the agents I worked with were amazing. They all
played a huge positive role in my life. I met so many people and really
began to feel as if life might not be so bad. God was showing me that He
was there and He was still very much my Father who
loved me just as I was. This new job was a sign of independence and a
feeling of being on the right track. Nights were not nearly as hard and
days were not nearly as long. I received a promotion soon after I started
and was making an extra 50 cents per hour – talk about feeling rich! HA!
I had finally
started dating again. To me it had been an eternity of being alone – but
looking back, it wasn’t long enough. The inner most parts of me God
wanted to work on, I wanted to fill with people and noise. I often think
about Adam in the garden – before Eve he had God himself…yet, he was still
lonely. I was in that place. I had a big God, great parents,
amazing sisters and a church family – but I was so lonely. I allowed
myself to be plagued by silence and the sheer thoughts of not being independent
enough to live on my own. The relationship I chose was, once again, an
unhealthy one. A person too old for me – a person too needy for me – a
person that wasn’t in God’s will for me. As our relationship rocked along,
I convinced myself I could be happy with this person – but GOD. God, got
a hold of me and shook me to the core. After a big argument with this guy
and a horrible break-up, I knew that being with him was not where God wanted
me. So, I regressed back into the shell of comfort and isolation.
Church was the only place you would find me outside of work and the house.
I was in the Sunday
School class of the pastor’s wife. Looking back I truly feel like she
picked that class because of me. She spoke life and laughter into me
every Sunday morning. She went to doctor appointments with me and would
bring me food. She made me the class leader and told me that God had big
things for me – I just had to believe it. Of course, I didn’t.
Nonetheless, my friend since childhood, Helen came in that class with me.
She and I had finally started hanging out some and she was a new breath of
fresh air. One Sunday morning, the Sunday School teacher told me to be
sure to introduce myself to the “new guy” in church and to invite him to
class. Eyes rolled hard in my head and I giggled, to play off the eye
roll and said “OK”.
This blonde-haired
guy was sitting with his parents. As I walked over to shake his hand and
welcome him, his eyes met mine. For a brief moment I remember thinking “I
think he saw my soul”. Immediately I went on defense with myself.
“He didn’t want what he saw” – “Rachel, you are not going to see him anymore,
he won’t come” – you name it, I said it. With a nervous voice
I introduced myself, invited him to Sunday School and walked away.
Sitting in church that day, I couldn’t help but keep thinking about that stare
– the one that looked deep into my eyes. His smile was big and his words
were simple – wait, did I even speak back? What did he say? Did he
say he would come? I’m such an idiot, I was so caught off guard with that
stare I didn’t hear a word he said. Ironically enough, this boy who
called himself Luke came back to church that evening and talked to me. He
came to Sunday School the following week and from there we began hanging out
and talking.
Time with Luke made
my face hurt and my heart skip beats. It made work days super long and
nights extra short. There were not enough hours in the day to spend with
him or talk to him. You can read the best part of our life story here
(Click here).
It wasn’t long
before we talked about being married. For me, I wanted to be a wife
because after all I was a mother. I was in love with the thought of a
family – actually, I wanted nothing more. This boy, Luke, seemed to love
me for me. He invested in me and took care of me. We took long road
trips and laughed and even got pulled over by the cops. We sang songs at
the top of our lungs in his black ford Ranger truck. He would bring me lunch
to work and take Chandler on car rides. We went to church and hung out
with his friends. It was just a good time all the time.
We took a road trip
to North Carolina that November. That was the best trip of my
life. We got lost following directions. We took some back roads to
try and make up time. Barney Fife, a back woods sheriff pulled Luke over
for speeding and swerving all over the road. See, Luke was fun – so as
delirious as we were and in an effort to keep the trip fun outside of our
inability to understand the directions correctly – he would tell me to keep my
side of the truck on the road. It wasn’t long before Sheriff Fife saw us
and put his lights on. Little did we know that he followed us for several
miles before we saw him. By the time we saw him, we were
laughing so hard we didn’t believe we were actually being pulled over.
Luke stopped and as Sheriff Fife got out of the car, Luke in famous fashion
said “Rachel, that is Barney Fife walking up!” I turn and look and there
he is outside the driver window. Laughter filled my soul – holding my
breath was impossible. As Luke rolled his window down, Sheriff Fife
asked, “is something funny?” – I’m literally crying – Luke manages to say “no
sir”. He asks me if I’m ok and implies he thinks I’m in danger. I
cannot get myself together – laughter is seeping out of my body. He
explains that he is charging Luke with reckless driving, speeding and I don’t
remember what else. I was scared but could NOT get rid of the giggles. Mr. Fife was so got off with our laughter, he
tells us to follow him to the station to fill out paperwork. So, 18 and
stupid, we follow him all the way to the station where we get arrested!
We had to post bond and everything. It left a bitter taste, but back on
the journey to get to the correct place because we had family waiting on
us.
We finally arrived
and enjoyed Thanksgiving with my parents and family. While there with my
family, the sweetest grin on his face, Luke got down on one knee and popped the
question “Rachel, will you marry me?” I of course said “YES”…and there we
were, engaged with the world ahead of us. Happy – excited – in shock –
ready. I was all of those things. I remember spending the next few
days and weeks not being able to sleep – I loved this boy and he loved
me. His laughter infected the inner parts of me. His love of life
gave me life. His ability to find the humor in all things made me feel
lovable on a human level.
We married shortly
after – 30 days actually. Our wedding day, December 28, 1999, to
say it was an interesting day doesn’t do it justice. I paged him to let
him know I was at work – cell phones were not what they are today. We
talked on the phone, “Rachel, are you really going to marry me today?”
Me, “yeah, if you really want me to.” He said, “ok, I’ll be there at
lunch to pick you up.” And he did. We spent an hour at the
court house getting married. Giggling and truthfully not understanding
the seriousness of marriage. But we were not fearful or regretful.
We were not upset or distant. We were now husband and wife – a mom and a
dad – a unit – one.
I remember sitting
in his truck afterwards and not having words – just a smile. I was
totally in love with being in love and a wife. No secret – my view was
way off of perfect will of God, but I honestly felt complete in a weird
way. As I walked back into work with a small gold band on my finger, I
was proud – happy – absolutely purposed and ready. I shared with
coworkers what happened and most of them, mothers and fathers of grown children
themselves, smiled and shook their heads with mild disbelief and gave me a
congratulations. As soon as work was over, I rushed to Luke’s house
because he had already had Chandler. We loaded up and went to my parents’
house to tell them.
I was nervous about
telling them. At this time in my life I never really expressed my
feelings verbally. Fear of disappointment crippled my words. I have
been this way since a young child. I was not a child who was coddled or
held a lot. I don’t have memories of laying on the couch snuggling with
my parents or anything. So, I was always quiet. I would make
a decision and do that decision and wait for the aftermath. This was
obviously no different. We went into the house and I can’t remember what
was said – but I know I told them we got married at lunch. My sisters
were there. Mom’s eyes filled up with tears and disbelief. Daddy
didn’t say much but “ok”. At least now, in my mind, they didn’t have to
worry so much about me.
Our life together
started in the home of our parents. We soon saved enough money to get our
own place. A 2 bedroom apartment not far from my parents’ house. It
was roomy enough for the 3 of us. I knew I was pregnant and that we
needed our own space. And so, life began. I started working part
time to save on childcare and keep up with keeping things in order at
home. Luke’s parents were generous and purchased us a washing machine and
dryer. I realized very quickly that I was a horrible cook. I made
hamburger helper and sandwiches while growing up – mom & dad made
everything else. Bless Luke – I attempted to fry chicken one night.
Little did I know that I was supposed to leave the skin on it and put enough
oil in it to cover the meat. There was smoke everywhere – and the inside
of the chicken was red and bloody. It was awful – but Luke ate it.
On another occasion I was so excited I made steaks. I told him about it
while he was at work and he seemed genuinely excited about it – once he arrived
home, he realized I had purchased the smallest cuts of pork steak you could buy. The meat
was dry and tough – marinating it and cooking it slow was not something I knew
how to do. He didn’t complain, he just smiled, kissed me on my cheek and
thanked me.
Luke was patient
with me as I was learning to be a wife. I for the most part had mothering
down pat. I loved being a mom and now a wife. I wasn’t great at it
– but I worked hard at getting better. We had friends come over from time
to time. We stopped going to church regularly and made every excuse in
the world. Chandler got very sick with rotavirus and was admitted into
the hospital. He was very, very sick. I stayed with him in the
hospital and Luke came to visit after work. He ended up with the sickness
also. It took over a week to get everyone back to normal. Soon
after that, Luke ended up losing his job. He was very upset over it and
it caused a lot of financial stress in the house. He started working with
his dad to make ends meet. It was at this time I should have went back
full-time. Finances were stressful but life was still good. I had
no idea the stress Luke was under and because I didn’t talk to my family about
our issues, the only advice being received was from Luke’s parents.
One night, Luke and
I got into a huge argument. I can’t tell you what about, but I can tell
you that it changed my entire life. Luke was so angry. I remember
thinking – its ok Rachel, husbands and wives fight. I left the apartment
for 2 hours to let him cool off and for me to gather my thoughts. When I
got back he was cold – distant – withdrawn – different. He had no words
to give to me. He was laying on the couch and I went over to sit down
beside him and he told me to get up – which I did. I remember going to
bed that night crying my eyes out. It was the first time in several
weeks I actually prayed. I could feel in my heart that I was about to
lose my family – but kept saying to myself, this is normal, it is just a
fight. I woke the next morning praying it was all a bad dream and things
would be back to normal – they weren’t.
I went onto work
and came home that afternoon to Luke and his dad unpacking our apartment – the date
was April 25, 2000. Everything I owned was in bags like garbage.
There was no explanation. There was no talking. His dad didn’t
attempt to talk or explain. It seemed as if I deserved this. I
mean, I had nothing before Luke and they were doing me a favor by putting what
was now mine in garbage bags. Horror. Disbelief. Tears.
Agony. Disappointment. Failure. Lost. Those were just a
few of the words I was thinking in that moment. I got back in my car and
went to my parents’ house. My dad and hugged me and consoled me.
Literally carrying me to the car. “Daddy, I don’t know what I did that
was so bad?” I didn’t understand at all – and neither did my
parents. If you know me, you know my relationship with my parents isn’t
what it is with some and more of what it isn’t with others. My parents
didn’t involve us in adult talks and situations growing
up so this was an utter shock in trying to deal with it or understand it.
Because they didn’t know the story or what happened, they didn’t have
words…just hugs and reassurance that it would be ok.
Off to the
apartment we went. Dad went inside – I stayed outside. Luke was
coming in and out of the apartment with an expression I never forgot. It
was absolute anger and disgust. My thoughts raced – I begged him to stop
and talk to me – nothing. I began picking up the bags and carrying them
to the car. How? What now? Really? This? With all
that was in me, the life that was growing inside of me, the life that was at
mom & dad’s waiting on me….what now? Starting over again?
Surely this is just temporary. I put my entire life savings into getting
that apartment. There was nothing left of it that was mine. All the
furniture was Luke’s – all the stuff aside from my clothes and Chandler’s
clothes. It was all his. But the money for the place – I would get
none of that back to start over. My savings was for a life for my
son and I and when I met Luke, I saved even more. All of it – gone in the
blink of an eye. I remember begging the apartment manager to give me just
half of it back – “I’m sorry Mrs. Day, legally I can’t do that – you broke the
lease!” Wait a minute…I didn’t break the lease – Luke and his dad broke
the lease! She told me, “you are welcome to stay in the apartment, but
you will have to pay full rent.” Something in me died that day. It
literally died right there.
I left
that day and don’t recall speaking for a couple of days. Sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for
the phone to ring or for a knock at the door.
Nothing. Silence. Grief stricken and feeling totally worthless,
that bondage of depression I gave to God crept back in. I’ve heard the old saying “don’t let the
devil keep mashing replay…hit the stop button and remove the disc.” I didn’t know how to do that. I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to wake up from this nightmare.
Life
after Luke started out very hard. Plagued
by feelings of worthlessness and unwanted, hiding is what I did once
again. You would only find me at church,
work or home. There was comfort there
that I never found anywhere else. It
wasn’t the comfort I wanted, but it was the comfort I needed. Daily co-workers would speak life into
me. Daily and even hourly, my parents
and sisters would speak life into me.
The church rallied around me to pray for me. There were days my mom made me get up. For 5 long months, life was very hard - and I held out hope that Luke would return.
He contacted me one day and asked me to meet him. Hope filled my body and spirit. We met at Malibu's - I was very pregnant - feeling huge and ugly. He sat across the table from me and told me he was going into the Army. He asked me if I would go with him. Wait, you want me to GO with you? I'm super pregnant - there is another baby at home and I'm just supposed to say yes? I told him that I couldn't right now. He told me we could start over - I didn't understand at that time that God could have saved our marriage. I was plagued by fear and doubt!! I knew he wanted me to go - to trust him, but my flesh wouldn't let me. He told me how he wanted to be a solider and be a man - I didn't wan to take that from him. I honestly don't remember much about that conversation other than feeling as if I was dreaming. I can't go with you, Luke, we don't see each other, you don't come visit or talk to me on any kind of regular basis. How could I?
I labored our child without Luke – a long
very stressful labor. Haley Elizabeth
was a huge baby – 10 pounds and 1 ounce.
2.5 hours of pushing – literally feeling as if I was dying. I was ok with dying that day – I remember telling
my mom I was going to die. I had not
seen her cry since the birth of Chandler – but that day, in that moment, she
knew that’s what I was feeling – grief stricken death. She told me I wasn’t going to die – and
reminded me that things were going to be ok.
She kept saying “Rachel, time will heal this, I promise!”
There
isn’t much I remember about that hard delivery.
I remember exhaustion. I remember
afterbirth being hard. I remember
feeling sick and weak. The hospital
memories I have of her birth are sending her get hospital pictures made and the
elastic cutting off her circulation. My
daddy had to cut the elastic out of the wrist bands because her hands were
purple. I also remember spending the 2
nights of recovery alone there – putting the baby in the nursery – I know they
brought her to me to nurse, but I don’t remember it. I have
no memory of bringing her home, getting her dressed or feeding her for the
first time. I have no memory of the
first several weeks of her life. I don’t
know who visited or who called. I don’t remember
the paperwork or the doctor coming to check on me. I’ve been told that was a grief thing. Not remembering is part of healing.
Once a
routine was established and I accepted the fact that I was going to be a single
mother of two small children, life got more bearable. I can’t say I remember when it happened or
how it happened, but it happened.
One day
at a red light my son Chandler asked me, “mommy do you see that?”
Me: “See
what?”Chandler: “That angel on the red light?”
Me: “Which red light?”
Chandler: “that one mommy! He is watching over that boy in the black car!”
Tears
filling my eyes, God spoke through my son.
He was watching over us and we were going to be ok! God ignited a fire in me giving me
determination to be better than before.
He showed up and showed out by opening more doors for me. Before Haley was 6 months old I was working
full-time at the space center for a NASA affiliated company and still had a
part-time job on the weekends at the real estate company. I was making enough money to have my own
apartment. It was 1 bedroom & 1
bathroom…but it was mine. My awesome
co-workers at the real estate office helped me get furniture to get my
apartment furnished. I had never been so
proud of a $40 living room suite or a $100 bedroom suite! My “master bedroom” was decked out with a
crib, double-bed and a dresser. My
bathroom was full of bath time toys and 4 towels. My kitchen was full of cookware from my
giving momma. My parking space was right
outside the door of my apartment and there was a pool onsite. At least 3 times a week, momma called me to
come eat at their house. Truth be told, I
prayed she would call me every day! My
parents were once again my lifeline to being normal and feeling worthy. I was
proud – yet physically lonely – I was grace-filled and forgiven – I was
searching for new life and God started giving it to me.
In the
next part of my testimony I will share about my second marriage and my
reconnection with Luke after 15 years.
