Hannah's Heartstrings

On November 9, 2017, I began writing this post, tears streaming down my face as I typed. It has taken me a while to be able to come back and finish it. 

***

I've been awake for hours. I'll blame it on pregnancy, even though this sort of thing just seems to happen every now and then. Its ok, honestly, because even though it leaves me incredibly tired, it usually means I get to spend a little time with my husband before he goes to work for the next twelve hours, or I get some "alone time" to reflect in the quiet before Titus wakes up. Both of which have happened this morning.

There have been lots of thoughts swirling in my mind in these early hours. I'm looking forward to Fellows Family Thanksgiving this weekend, and getting to see our Canadians. There's food prep to think about. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I'm quite grateful that I figured out how to transition Titus into sleeping through the night.

But everything pales in comparison to the two overriding themes currently presiding over our family.

There is a new baby growing in my belly.

And our Grandma is dying.

There is such a dichotomy of happy and sad in our hearts right now. We are rejoicing in the home going of a dear 94-year-old saint, a woman who has brightened every life she's touched, all while mourning the end of her beautiful life and dealing with the heartbreak of seeing her mortal body suffer through its decline.

We are also completely thrilled at the new life joining us next year, but sad that he or she will never get to know this amazing person nearly everyone simply called Grandma.

Watching someone go through the end of their life while beginning someone else's life inside me is such a humbling experience. To be this close to both the beginning and the end of creation...it's something quite holy.

We keep saying it won't be long.

It won't be long before I have this precious baby in my arms. It won't be long before I get to go through birth again and Titus gets to be a big brother.

It won't be long before Grandma is home in glory, seeing the husband she hasn't seen in thirty years, her family and friends who've gone before her, and most of all, the Savior she has loved for nearly a century.

There are tears. Lots of tears. And comfort food and comfort pants, thanks to my indescribably amazing sister-in-law, Amy. We are all rallying to support and love each other. Its deep. Its meaningful. Titus brings joy with his infectious toddler energy, and I recount the most recent wonders  of how my miraculous baby is growing to the size of a blueberry this week.

One of the most incredible things to watch during this time has been my mother-in-law taking care of her mother-in-law. I watch her in complete awe sometimes. What love it is that compels a person to take care of someone else so tenderly and intimately! Her tireless attention, generous spirit, and deep, deep kindness makes me hope that I can be even half the woman she is. There are few things in this world that I have seen more admirable than this.

***

Now, two months later...

Life and death surely have collided, but not in the way we were expecting.

Based on what I wrote earlier in this post, Grandma should be in Heaven, and I should be close to 17 weeks pregnant.

But she isn't. And I'm not.

Grandma has somehow hung on to her threads of life for two more months, rising and falling from week to week, and surprising us greatly with her longevity. She has even managed to outlive a friend who was nearly 15 years younger.

And I lost my sweet, tiny baby. I've never experienced a miscarriage before, and hope with all my heart I never have to again. I was 12 weeks along, but the baby was no bigger than 6-8 weeks, so very well may have been gone already when I began began this post, or shortly after.

I miscarried a week before Christmas. Nothing could have prepared me for the process, the grief, the pain, and the confusion of such an ordeal. I am so grateful for the love and support that has carried me through this last month, some of which has come from places I never expected.

This is not going to be a post about how God's ways are higher than our ways, or how He always has a plan. I don't believe that's how God works with us today. I don't believe He micromanages our lives in ways we cannot understand (and I don't want to have any doctrinal debates with anyone over this, so please don't even start).

What I am here to say is that sometimes, life is horrible. We live in a fallen world, where beautiful souls linger in bedridden old age far longer than they want to, and where babies die before they get to live a life. Its horrible. It hurts. It is unexplainable and unfair. The answer to our agonized question of "Why?" is simply that life happens in the worst ways sometimes.

But we do not sorrow as those who have no hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). We are grateful that this world is not our home, and we look forward to better days in Glory. We know that we have peace no matter what happens, and that God comforts our hearts and gives us the strength we need to get through the worst things life throws at us. He doesn't leave us unprotected. He builds us up in our hearts through His word, giving us wisdom and courage to persevere even when we don't want to.

God did not take my baby so that I could learn some valuable lesson, and He is not leaving Grandma here in pain and confusion for some unknown purpose. But He is loving us, comforting us, and teaching us how to live through tragedy so that we may help others going through the same thing. He does not bring about the pain so that He may teach us, but rather can use it to help us learn when it happens.

This new year is looking different than I thought it would. Right now, instead of looking forward to the halfway point of my pregnancy, I'm healing my body from a traumatic experience, managing deep anxiety, and hoping in the near future to try again for a new baby. And we are still waiting to celebrate Grandma's home going.

Life is crazy, and amazing, and unexpected. And we look to the future with hope and a joy in our hearts that cannot be quenched.


(It doesn't matter to me if you agree or not, and I'll reiterate that my Biblical beliefs are not up for debate. If you have found comfort in some other belief, then good for you. I've spent enough time arguing and studying to know where I stand and right now, I don't need to hash it out again with someone just looking for a fight. Thanks but no thanks.)

"What happened to the girl I married?"

My husband's words cut me deeply, and shook something inside me that had been forgotten. How could I have forgotten so much of myself in such a short period of time?

He fell in love with a bright, confident, excited girl who stood up for what she believed in, thrived on adventure, worked hard, and smiled a lot. Now all that was left was a sullen, anxious, exhausted person who stressed out over literally every single thing and had to give herself pep talks for days before leaving the house.

I don't know exactly where it started. Postpartum was the biggest culprit, but if I look back I can see the fade starting to happen well before that. Having my baby, while the single most amazing event of my entire life, shoved me into a very dark spiral. Everyone talks about postpartum depression and I was prepared for that. But no one talks about postpartum anxiety, and I had no idea how to handle the intense fear, worry, and stress that gripped my heart when I found myself with a newborn baby in my arms.

It hit me hard when Kyle went on a weekend trip with some church friends to a Bible conference in Chicago, and I was home alone for three days with my two month old. I had encouraged him to go, even when he was hesitant to, but as soon as he walked out the door, i felt immobilized and more scared then ever in my life. I could not get my mind to shut off and had worked myself into such a state that by the end of the weekend, I came down with my fourth case of mastitis since Titus's birth. I realized at that point that I had a big problem.

Since then, much of my mental and emotional energy has been focused on figuring out what I needed to do to get better, setting boundaries, simplifying my life and expectations, and really just taking care of myself, which is hard to do as a new mom. But I found that once I really recognized what was wrong with me and put a name on it, that's when the healing began.

Above all, I wanted to become that energetic, confident, bright girl that my husband fell in love with. Not just for him, but also because I had lost sight of so much of myself.

I wanted to feel shiny again.

So one step at at time, I started taking myself back.

I made an effort to quit feeling sorry for myself. Oh, most days there's just no hope where that's concerned. But in little strides, I focused on acknowledging that this is my life now, and it is, amidst all the frustrations and exhaustion, a most beautiful life. I am living my dream, and even if it means less sleep and fewer showers, there's nothing else I'd rather be doing with my life.

Perhaps things I wish I'd known is the wrong way to title this post. Some of these thing are ones I knew but for some reason they just didn't click. Other things were stuff I had been told, but dismissed. All in all, having a baby has brought some revelations I was not emotionally prepared for.

Becoming a mother is the most fascinating, exasperating, magical thing I have ever done, and honestly, I really look forward to having another baby so I can experience it in a much more prepared way. But then that baby will probably be completely different than this one, so I'll have a whole new set of things to learn. In the mean time, here's what I discovered with this one.

You do not have to eat for two.
Seriously, this is actually kind of a bad idea. You may feel like you want to eat everything in sight, but unless you are one of those women blessed with the ability to burn fat just by smiling, you will probably regret using your baby as an excuse to binge. As someone who can gain weight just by looking at food, I really wish I'd have exercised a little more common sense when it came to my pregnancy eating habits.

You CAN lift things.
Obviously, don't overdo it. But seriously, you are not an invalid. Nothing is broken, and you are just as strong, if not stronger than you were before you got pregnant. You'll know when its time to take a rest, but sitting around afraid to exert yourself isn't healthy. And when you have another baby, you'll have a toddler that wants to be picked up and hugged, so the whole "don't lift things" myth kinda goes out the window. So lift some crap. It's good for you.

Postpartum is HARD.
This is the most important thing. Pregnancy was amazing. Birth was enchanting. But postpartum was the hardest thing I have ever gone through. I really expected to bounce back a whole lot faster than I did. I found myself dealing with crippling anxiety, four bouts of mastitis, and stronger emotions than I had prepared for. If nothing else, the smashing realization that this tiny little person was completely dependent on ME was enough to throw me for a loop. I mean, it's one of those things that you know, but actually holding this howling, starving, pink little human wriggling in your arms and knowing that its going to need its diaper changed {many times} and it's probably going to be up every two hours...and you're the one it wants...I think I almost hyperventilated the first time I changed my son's diaper.

Only after three months did I start feeling somewhat like a normal human being again. I am now a firm believer in The Fourth Trimester. When I have another baby, I will be telling everyone not to expect anything from me for the next three months. I will be purposely hibernating with my littles, not like this time where my fear of going out kept me home rather than a respect for myself and what I had just gone through. I won't be trying to make an appearance anywhere, travel anywhere, or go places so people can meet the baby. If you want to see us, you know where we live...bring a covered dish.

So if I can say anything to new moms, it is this: lower your expectations. Take it easy on yourself. Wear only stretchy pants and whatever you do, don't try on your pre-pregnancy jeans right away unless you want to cry. You just made a freakin' human and pushed it out of your body. Give yourself at least three months to recover, and shove everyone else's expectations of you down the toilet.

Having siblings/babysitting DOES NOT adequately prepare you for motherhood.
It just doesn't. You can have a dozen siblings and spend countless hours babysitting, but those kids ultimately have a mother, and you are not it. Unless you have literally been the one to to drag yourself out of bed (what feels like hundreds of times), been the only person that little one wants, been its main source of food, warmth, and cleanliness...being a sister or a sitter is just playtime. You may be able to change a diaper, or distract a toddler long enough for your mom to get a shower, but it's just not the same.

Growing up around birth/breastfeeding does not adequately prepare you for actually doing it. 
I have been a part of big families and breastfeeding culture my whole life. So when Titus was born I pulled him close to me and tried to feed him in his first day earthside. When my midwife's assistant came to check up on me less than 24 hours after birth, she asked how things were going. Titus hadn't latched on for more than 5 minutes, and it just felt awkward and hard. I showed her what I was doing, and she proceeded to crawl up in bed with me and spend a good half hour coaching me on the breastfeeding I swore I knew all about. It was simple things I felt like I should have known, but I didn't. Her time with me made all the difference in the world.

Birth was in many ways the same. I had watched all the videos, read all the books, but when it came right down to it, I needed my midwife and my doula there to remind me of things and coach me through the process. They were worth their weight in gold to me.

So regardless of how many siblings you grew up with, hire a doula and make sure you have someone available to check up on you afterwards and help you with nursing or whatever else you may not realize you need help with.

Birth has a mind of its own.
Water breaks, labor happens, baby is born. That's how it goes, right? One thing right after the other, a flurry of activity to bring a baby earthside.

Wrong. Or at least, not always right.

In my case, my water broke, and forty.freaking.hours later, my labor officially started. What?!? I totally did not expect my body to need that much time to get ready for birth.

So make your plan, know what you want in your birth, but don't be surprised if something changes. Roll with it.

People are so opinionated. 
They've got a solution for everything. They know everything. And they make pretty rude comments. They will make comments about your weight, both before and after baby...as if you need any more blows to your self esteem. They will insist that its good for the baby to cry, and tell you that you have to give the baby a bottle whether you want to or not. They will ask stupid questions about your baby's sleep habits, eating habits, and even have the audacity to ask if your tiny little newborn is a "good baby", because newborns are malicious little monsters, right? They will tell you all the things you "need" to do, and will be rather offended if you keep the baby's name and gender a secret. If you tell them your pregnancy is going really well, they will look at you like you are lying to them.

Basically, most people are incapable of just telling a pregnant woman how beautiful she looks, or a new mom how adorable her baby is, and leaving it at that.

People are weird. 
So when I got pregnant, everyone was excited. But after he was born, something strange happened. Our family and a lot of friends were still thrilled, of course. But a lot of people that I thought would be more excited...weren't. Or maybe it wasn't exactly that they weren't excited so much as they just weren't present. They were happy to meet the baby if I showed up somewhere with him. But it was almost as if they were indifferent. It was the weirdest thing I have ever seen.
I don't even know what my advice is here, other than to expect weirdness. There will always be people you thought would be around for you and then it turns out that they aren't. And no one will be as excited for your baby as you will be, so just focus on that.

Babies are weird.
They are the most wonderful weird in the world. But they are truly weird. Just when you think you've got them all figured out, they will change on you. Just when you think they're "on a schedule," forget it, they won't be tomorrow. Just when you think they've stopped breaking out in some frightening skin rash, a new one will flare up because we suddenly can't handle dairy. One day they will be so hungry {all} day and the next, they'll sleep so much you'll wonder if they're sick or something. They find amusement in the silliest things, and have ability to puke the quietest, most unforeseen puke of your life.

You have never known this kind of worry.
I don't care what kind of stress you've ever experienced, it does not compare to the worry you will now have on your heart 24/7 because of this little person. I never knew it was even possible to worry about the things I now worry about. Is he hot? Is he cold? Are his socks too tight? Is he breathing? What if someone with a cold breathes on him? Am I making enough milk? What do I do with him when I have to pee? Oh good heavens someone is holding him...don't freak out, don't freak out, don't.freak.out. He's crying...why is he crying? Did I hurt him somehow? What if I got a little water in his mouth when I gave him a bath...you know secondary drowning in a thing, right? Oh my goodness what if he's drowning? Why is he still asleep? Is HE BREATHING???

A dear friend has told me it gets easier with the second and third kids, so apparently I need to have more babies.

You have never known love like this.
I never knew my heart could explode like this. It will never cease to amaze me how this tiny human can fill me with a love and a joy like nothing I have ever experienced. No matter how long a night we've had, how sore my boobs are, how long its been since I've showered, or how many different types of bodily fluid I'm covered in...all it takes is one beautiful, admiring smile from him and I completely melt. During those long, hard nights, there is always a moment where I cry a little and think, "Little guy, I am not real fond of you right now." And then the morning comes and he starts babbling and cooing to me, and my feeble heart goes, "Aw, its ok. I'll be sleep deprived for you every day for the rest of my life if only you will make that beautiful little noise one more time."

We are always learning, always growing. So take heart lovely mamas. Be prepared. Be flexible. Be gentle on yourself.

It has been just over a week since I brought this little person into the world. One amazing, nerve wrecking, magical week of learning about each other and figuring out our little trio.

Birth was, by far, the most incredible thing I have ever experienced. I did not know my body was capable of such intense power. To be able to watch my body perform the way it did, and to work with it to bring my baby out was something I honestly can't wait to experience again. And being able to do it all within the comfort of my home, with the most fabulous, loving birth team over, was a dream come true.

It started on Thursday morning at 2am. My water started breaking, though not as I had anticipated. I expected it to come out like a fire hose but instead it was just small gushes. Still, I was thrilled. Kyle got up, we changed the sheets, I texted my midwife Nicole, and attempted to sleep some more.

I had a few small contractions here and there, but nothing significant happened until Friday at around 7 pm. Those hours of waiting for my body to kick in were long, disappointing, and not at all what I expected. I figured it would be like all the stories I'd heard...your water breaks, you go into labor, you have a baby. Bam. Done. But no. My body had other plans. Apparently I needed a full 40+ hours for my hormones to build up enough to set my labor into action. I kept Nicole aware of what was going on, and we were prepared to start having me take some herbs and stuff and set things in motion if something didn't happen soon. Thankfully, those real, purposeful contractions started coming around 7pm on Friday night.

By early Saturday morning, it was very clear that I was in labor. My doula, Kimby, and her helper, Meredith, came over at 7am and we began our day together. Early labor was actually quite fun. We joked and talked around contractions, and Kimby made me feel like I was in a spa. She diffused essential oils, massaged my back and feet, and just made me feel so loved and calm. We did a few different things to help with the baby's position, since she was concerned he might have a hand up. Between that and massaging the labor pressure points on my ankles, but the afternoon, I was kicking into high gear.

I was so thankful to be able to do a lot of laboring in the birthing pool. It was so comforting and really took a lot of pressure off my belly. We did the pool all the way up until I was ready to push. I had hoped to give birth in the pool, but since we knew my baby was large and had a big head, Nicole felt it would be best to birth in a different position.

I was not paying very good attention to the clock, so my remembrance of the time of events is a little sketchy. I think it was about 7ish when Nicole arrived and I was in hard labor. I began to feel like pushing so they brought me out of the tub and onto the couch. She had me lay on my back to give baby enough space to get under my pubic bone. With his big head and my small pelvis, this proved to be rather hard. His progress was very slow and I was getting very tired.

I pushed for nearly three hours. The whole time, Nicole massaged my vaginal opening and perineum  with olive oil, stretching me in preparation for my baby's head to come through. This was a lifesaver. I cannot begin to express how thankful I am that she did this! Also after coming out of the pool, my legs were incredibly sore from kneeling so long and supporting myself during contractions, so the girls massaged me with arnica oil. Oh so amazing!

The pushing got really intense and his head rocked back and forth for quite a while. All of a sudden his heart rate dipped and Nicole told me to stop pushing and just breathe. I was focusing so hard on the pushing that I wasn't getting enough oxygen to him. So they worked hard with me to get me to focus on taking long deep breaths and not be so intense with pushing. That was the hardest part! My body took over several times and pushed completely on its own. But the breathing turned out be just was we needed. His heart rate came back up and we kept going.

Nicole ran outside to get her oxygen tank and to call another midwife to come assist, since it was looking like my baby was stuck and they were going to have to reposition me. His head was so big and taking so long to come down that they were getting concerned. But just then, his head started crowning! Kimby told Meredith to run outside and get Nicole as fast as she could. He was coming out!!

The most incredible thing to me was that I did not even feel him come out. My eyes were closed most of the time due to being quite exhausted. I opened them just at the moment his head came out, and saw the explosion of water hit everyone. They told me to push hard and keep pushing. I gave it every last ounce of energy I had and out he came! The next moment I opened my eyes, Nicole was wrangling my slippery baby up onto my belly.

And so, Titus Howard Fellows was born at 11:40pm on Saturday, February 13, 2016.

He took just a few moments to breathe, so we kept rubbing him and talking to him, and soon he was howling his head off. Those first moments of holding him were utterly miraculous.

He turned out to be a pretty big baby, just like Nicole had predicted. He weighed 9 pounds, 4 ounces, was 22 inches long, and his head (drum roll please) was 15 inches in circumference! But thanks to Nicole's perineal massaging and stretching, I only got one tiny little tear that didn't even warrant a stitch. Yay!

There are a few things I'd like to talk about that I have found truly fascinating concerning my home birth experience.

My birth team was amazing. Seriously. Their support and love throughout the whole ordeal was incomparable. I have never felt more cared for in my whole life. I was not just another patient in a bed. I wasn't just another birth. I was important to them. They poured themselves out into me with their loving touch, encouraging words, and strengthening prayers. I could not have done it without them.

My husband was amazing. My sweet, calm spirited, low key, loving man was such a huge help during the hardest part of my labor. He helped massage me, held my hands through the hardest contractions, and encouraged me through every push. When I was so tired, he told me again and again to open my eyes and smile at him. He kept me grounded.

Nicole saved me from a myriad of medical complications. I will never be able to thank her enough for what she did for me. By helping me work with my body to bring my baby out, I was spared a birthing horror story. Had I gone to a hospital, I would have been subjected to a multitude of medical procedures. Because my labor was so long in coming, a hospital would have induced me. Because he was so big, they would have most likely done a c-section, or at the very least, an episiotomy. If I had by some chance been allowed to birth without any of those things, I would have tore far worse, because no doctor or nurse would have taken the time to massage and stretch me like Nicole did.
Don't get me wrong...I am glad that the medical community is there for emergencies, and if something had taken a turn for the worst, Nicole would not have hesitated to get me to the nearest hospital. But working with Nicole allowed me to treat my birth as the most natural experience of my life and to bring my baby calmly and lovingly into this world.

Diet and water intake are really important. My diet has gone through many changes over the years, but it has always remained the healthiest possible. I was vegan through the first half of my pregnancy but after that, felt like I was lacking in nutrients, so I added meat and grains back into my life. I remained sugar free and gluten free, and have been loving it.
As a step to help my seizure issues, I increased my water intake last March and began drinking at least 80-120 ounces of water a day. This made a huge difference in my existing issues, and then when I got pregnant in May, the benefits were phenomenal.
I attribute a great portion of my birthing success to my diet and water intake. Avoiding sugar especially helped, since sugar heightens your pain sensitivities...even fruit in excess can be a problem! A good, healthy, balanced food lifestyle with plenty of good clean water is the best thing you can do do for your body and your baby.


Home birth may not be for everyone, but I praise God every day that I was able to have this beautiful experience! And I could not be more thrilled to have this tiny little person in my arms at last.

The old ball and chain.

Tying the noose. 

Looks like you're trapped for the rest of your life.

Oh, the jokes. Of course, they are mostly geared toward men. Because everyone knows that the wife is the boss, right? Once you get married, for men and women, its the end of all your fun. Oh and then, just give it a year...wait till the honeymoon wears off...then you'll be just like everyone else. Miserable. Then you get kids and they ruin your marriage all together. Just wait. You'll see.

People love to treat marriage like its the end of the world. But the truth is, its only the end of the world if all your world consists of is late-night partying, irresponsibility, sleeping around, and no commitment.

My marriage set me free.

I got married because I wasn't afraid to commit my life to the man I wanted to be with. And in return, I have gained a whole world that wasn't there before.

I now have the freedom to kiss him without judgement.

I have the freedom to be alone with him without speculation.

I am able to have sex with him without any twinge of guilt.

I don't have to wonder if I'm loved, because he tells me every day.

Marriage lets me share he same home with this man, without any questions or want of explanation.

I know you're probably thinking...so what? Marriage set you free from what people think of you? What does it matter what people think? Its none of  their business!

Well, you're partially right. It doesn't matter what people think.

But it does matter what people think.

You can't live your life trying to fit into a mold, or live up to everyone else's expectations. But you do need to live your life in a way that encourages people to come to the right conclusions about you. Just because its none of their business doesn't mean you should throw morals and values out the door. People are still going to judge you, whether they say they will or not. So don't give them a reason to think the wrong thing.

Marriage set me free from people thinking the wrong thing.

So is that it? I just got married to avoid speculation? Haha. No.

I got married because I fell in love and wasn't afraid of commitment. Marriage set me free to live the life I had always dreamed of. It gave me all new territory to explore that I never would have had when I was single. Even when we were dating, it was nothing like what we have now. We are free to build a life together, because we did it against the flow of what society told us to do. They told us we should live together first, try out sex first, just in case we didn't like each other. But we chose to give this life all we have, commit to each other for a lifetime, and then enjoy the benefits. This way, we don't spend every day wondering if its still working, wondering if we like each other. We spend every day proving it. Cultivating it.

Yes, marriage is still work. There are the rough days, the tired days.

But for me, marriage is freedom.

I recently shared an article I came across on Facebook. The writer jumped into the issue of modesty, and gave some interesting points. She built on the idea that it should not be the responsibility of a women to try to control a man's thoughts by dressing (or not dressing) a certain way, and in many ways I agree with that. We cannot seek to dress in such a way that will prevent a man from noticing and admiring the natural curves of our body, because its unrealistic. We can, however, strive to adorn ourselves in a way that lets our character and personality shine. There are parts of our body that should be honored by keeping them covered, but not because we are ashamed of them. We are fearfully and wonderfully made. That doesn't mean flaunt it if you've got it. But I think we have gotten so wrapped up in our ideas of what modest dress should be that we have forgotten to dress with class and dignity.

Its not our responsibility to keep men from lusting after us. We can't control it, not matter how conservatively we dress. However, we do have the opportunity to suggest through our dress what we do want people to think of us. Like it or not, we live in a world where we are judged and given labels based on what we wear. I can't tell you how many times I've been asked if I am or was Amish, just because I wear a lot of skirts and like my hair up in a bun.

Your clothing can say a lot about you. Therefore, your goal should not be trying to prevent people from thinking the wrong thing, but instead, focusing on encouraging them to think the right thing. Be comfortable, be yourself, let your God-given personality be defined, and let the Holy Spirit shine through you.


While thinking of all these thoughts on modesty, a friend sparked a conversation about how to teach our kids about sex when the time comes. I'll admit, its always a daunting thought to me. But it occurred to me...why should it be such a scary idea? Sex is beautiful and fun and why shouldn't I be excited to tell them about it? Sex is sacred and special, and something to be enjoyed to the fullest between a man and his wife. I hope and pray that we can give our kids a good enough example in life and communicate to them how wonderful these things are, so that when its their turn, they can face it with joy and with grateful hearts.

The kids of my generation and circles like to talk about how the purity movement damaged our thinking about sex. How most of us were so burdened by trying to keep ourselves physically and emotionally pure that, most of the time, we were simply plagued with the guilt of thinking we may have been impure by noticing someone of the opposite sex. And when we came to actually doing the deed, we were frightened. Really, sincerely frightened. Now, some will say that these were worst case scenarios, but I think there are a great number of us that experienced this to some degree.


We were extreme. We kissed dating goodbye and fell in love with courtship. We swung the pendulum so far in one direction that we forgot what the middle ground was like. So what is happening next? We swing it the opposite way. We hear the words---.modesty.purity.courtship.---even homeschool---and we run.

And then...we blame our parents.

They were controlling. They were possessive and crazy. They just wanted to shelter us and never let us out in the real world. They just feared the world and all in it, and wanted to keep us from it.

Those bad parents.

Seriously?

I have to say...we are messing this up even worse than it already is. Do we even realize what we are doing?

I realize that there are people who have taken the modesty/purity/homeschool culture way too far. And then you have the Doug Phillips and Bill Gothard scandals. I know many parents have cause irreversible damage and suffering in their children because of the standards and rules they enforced. They really did take it an unhealthy level. I'll never dispute that.

But I will point out one very important thing: they suffered too.

We have lost sight of what came before us and why we ended up where we did. We think its all about us. We were the ones jaded by legalism and tormented by the patriarchal system. But I'll say it again: our parents suffered too.

Most of our parents were not raised the way we were. Many of them were first generation Christians, first generation homeschoolers, first generation couples-that-actually-stayed-married, and so on. Most of them had no idea what they were doing. All they knew was that what they went through as kids/young adults didn't work and they wanted something different for their kids. So the pendulum got swung as far from what they knew as they could get, and the modesty/purity/homeschool culture was born.

They saw that traditional American dating-with-no-goal-of-marriage didn't work very well, and so Courtship was born (or should I say reborn?).

They saw that the public school system was full of crap (still is...), and so Homeschooling was born.

They saw that casual, premarital sex was causing damage, and so Purity was born (or should I say redifined?).

They knew the pain in their own hearts from the lives they had lived, and wanted to protect us from the same pain. They wanted to give us different opportunities and wanted to raise us as Biblically as they knew how.

They saw what didn't work, and went the opposite way. Hey...aren't we trying to do the same thing?

Let us not be so swift to judge the choices our parents made. Their choices were born out of their own pain, and so are our choices. We are making choices based on the same emotions that spurred our parents on, but this is where we have to be careful not to be so anxious to get away from what hurt us that we swing that pendulum so far the other direction and end up in the same hell hole our parents crawled out of.

Let's take what we now know, and turn it into something beautiful. Let's not just focus on "not doing what our parents did", but instead focus on why. We can do better than our parents, because they did better than theirs. And our kids will do better than us. But not if we are stuck in bitterness and self-pity. We had a rough past...ok, so let's get over it and move into the future. Modesty, purity, homeschooling, biblical manhood and womanhood, courtship-also-known-as-dating-with-a-purpose, saving sex for marriage...these are all still good things! Let's bring them out of their extremist past and give them freedom to work they way God intended!

We have a chance to find the happy medium. Let us not waste it nursing our wounds with our hatred of the culture that shaped us into the people we are today. We are who we are because of where we came from. We can't stay there, but we can take what we have learned and let the pendulum settle gracefully in the middle.

680 plus miles.

14 hours in the car.

Driving past what felt like every single "blink-and-you'll-miss-it" small town in the Midwest.

Winding up in a middle-of-nowhere camp with zip cell reception.

Why?

"...to make all men see what is the fellowship of the mystery..." (Eph. 3:9)


I spent the week prior to arriving at this beautiful place fretting and freaking out. All the planning and prep work that had gone into this event had me running in circles. I mean, how on earth does one truly prepare for a weekend of ministry in which you have to cook meals for 45-50 people, make sure everyone has what they need and is happy, all in a place you have never been to before and have very little idea of what to expect?

So I fretted.

Then we arrived.

And my mind was blown.

My soul was completely refreshed, and there were several moments over the weekend where I found my self near tears of joy. Everyone brought food, which was my biggest worry, and we had a beautiful abundance! I had so much help in the kitchen that everything ran like a well-oiled machine.




We played. We ate. We sang. We hugged. We talked. We smiled till it hurt and laughed till we cried.






We are the next generation. We are the heartbeat of the movement.

If not us, then who? 

I recently watched TLC's "Breaking Amish" series on Netflix. I'm not sure why it intrigued me. Most of it kind of irritated me...way too much drama and bad attitudes. But it spurred on some interesting thoughts, hence this blog post.

"Breaking Amish" chronicles the story of five young Amish/Mennonite people that leave their communities and set off into the outside world. Their journey takes them to New York City as a start, where they get a huge culture shock and dive head first into all that the "English" lifestyle has to offer.

The series is not without plenty of drama, and I found myself fast forwarding a lot. But I think the thing that intrigued me most was the interactions with their families before and after their escapades.

Before they left for the big city, each one was spoken to by one or more family members. They were all told that if they went out and did the things they were planning to, that they would be shunned. When they returned, they were shocked to find that their families would no longer speak to them. One girl's friends even ran from her with their hands on their faces like blinders when they saw her approach in her English clothing. She was heartbroken.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am not in any way saying that the Amish lifestyle is right. I disagree with their biblical beliefs entirely, and if I ever had the chance to become friends with someone from that community, I would greatly encourage them to leave.

But the attitudes of  those kids with their families had me shaking my head.

Dude...what did you think was going to happen?

They told you they were not okay with what you were doing. You knew it was against everything they believed in, and you still went on your merry way and did whatever the heck you wanted. Sure, you should be able to make a life for yourself and make decisions on your own. But then to come home and demand that the people who gave you a good and fair warning be tolerant of your new lifestyle? Sorry. It doesn't work that way.

Here is where I believe we have the biggest problem in society today. Everyone wants acceptance and believes that it shouldn't matter what anyone does, you should love and accept them anyways. Maybe some people are okay with this sort of mindset. Heaven knows the media and all the liberal/feminist/feel good junkies of the country are all about just accepting people for "who they are" (aka what they decide to do with their lives). But for me, that's not how it works.

May this be a declaration to my friends and family.

I love you. I will always love you.

But I do not have to love what you do.

I do not have to accept the lifestyles, habits, addictions, choices, or sexual partners you choose to associate with.
I do not have to be okay with the words you use, the friends you hang out with, or your lack of Biblical influence and devotion.
I don't have to tolerate your attitude.
I don't have to act like everything is okay when you are blatantly being disrespectful, partaking in things I don't agree with or living in a way that is opposite of everything I hold dear and important to me.

Love does not equal acceptance. I can love you, the person I have always loved and will continue to. But that doesn't mean I have to accept that you are doing all the things I am against.

Where does grace fit in, you ask? Grace does not gloss over wrong. Grace loves and encourages to do the right thing. Grace does not just leave a person in their pit, afraid to say anything contrary because that person might be offended. Grace loves in spite of wrong, but is not tolerant of it. Grace encourages change and restoration.

So while you are out there finding yourself, remember that I am here with a willing ear and warm hug. I will always love you, but I will never stop praying for you, encouraging you to do the right thing, and hating all the horrid things that are trapping you and keeping you from a rich, fulfilling life in Christ.

And again. And again.

When will this circle end?

I keep trying. I keep putting myself out there for you. Giving you chance after chance to break my heart all over again. Why?

You've pushed me away again. How many more times do I let myself get disappointed and hurt?

My initial fighting response wants to rise up in my heart.

Fine. Be that way. Whatever.

I want to be angry at you. I want to give up and forever delete you from life somehow. I feel like that is exactly the attitude you have towards me.

But that's not who I am. 

Believe what you like about me. Form your own conclusions of my life, my choices, my thoughts, because your assumptions will be all you have of me since you care not to find out who I really am.

Funny...I thought you already knew.

I keep trying. I will keep putting myself out there, hoping maybe someday you'll reach back.

Why? Because some part of me still believes you're worth it.

Marriage is about love. Love and family and equality. Love, love, love. All we need is love.

Or so they say.

You know who ‘they’ are. They are the ones whose ‘pride’ we are forced to tolerate, meanwhile anything that offends them is quickly silenced or sentenced. That’s pretty irritating, but what’s worse is the ideas they are sugar coating and hand feeding to the emotions of anyone that will listen.

Love is all you need, they say.

They’re wrong. And there will never come a time when they will cease being wrong.

If love was all we needed, then life would be easy. Loving would be easier. Love wouldn’t die or fade. Love would be more than a feeling, and would be way more trustworthy.

Relationships based solely on love fail. Daily. People fall in love, marry without any other foundation, and when life falls apart and love had died in their hearts, they have nothing to fall back on. Living on love is selfish unless it has the right foundation.

Sure, love is great. But love by itself is shaky. Love needs other things in order to work properly.

I will love my husband for as long as I live. But if I can’t show him grace when he irritates me, be a servant to him when he tracks mud through my kitchen, satisfy and pleasure him even if I get nothing out of it, or be kind and patient with him through all the foibles of life…then my love means nothing.

The other side of this is that without love, my grace, patience, servitude, and kindness mean nothing if my heart is bitter against him. Without a right and loving attitude, those actions mean nothing.

Each thing by itself is shallow if the attitude and motive behind it is wrongly placed. It all works together, and together builds a beautiful foundation…one that God designed to last through the ages.

We need love. We need grace. We need forgiveness, kindness, patience, longsuffering. We need all of it.

Let me start out by clarifying a few things.

With all my heart, I believe that marriage is a wonderful, beautiful and God-ordained institution. I believe it should be treasured, protected and fought for at all costs. I believe that relationships leading up to marriage should be held with a high level of importance, and that those who are not ready to enter into a marriage should really not be involving themselves in romantic relationships.

So yes. I have some high standards.

But something I’ve noticed keeps bugging me.

The courtship versus dating battle keeps on raging, although it seems with not quite as much rage as in years past. The conservative Christian community insists that courtship is the Biblical alternative to dating, and in many ways, they are still right. For all of the reasons I stated before, courtship appears, on the outside, to be what every Christian should be striving for in their romantic conquests. At its basic definition, courtship is the way to go. No doubt.

But like so many other things that we conservative Christian people, especially in the home school community, have taken and run with…we’ve messed it up. So badly that many of our peers are turning away from it with a holy vengeance, swearing that it ruined their lives. Why?

I think its because of how courtship is presented nowadays, and how we’ve got it stuck in our minds.

What I’ve noticed is that there is far too much hype over courtship. Someone who is adamant about courtship and preaches it faithfully, when they finally do enter into it themselves, make the biggest deal out of it. A celebration is called for! Blessings abound! Pictures are taken! Oh, but don’t get too close cause you’re not married yet, even though with all the fluff and fuss, you’d think they were! And so begins your time of getting to know each other, odds are with complete parental supervision (including all messages and conversations), and so much rejoicing over this wonderful relationship.

And then…something happens.

Maybe it’s a truth that comes out, a reality that sinks in, or a personality trait that one didn’t see before. Maybe it’s a belief system, or an opinion about child rearing. Whatever the reason, the relationship goes south, and subsequently ends.

Everyone, but especially the girl in this party, is brokenhearted. Here’s just hoping it didn’t end badly and that the couple can still be friends afterward. All in all, there are still hurt feelings and place in your heart that you pray will be healed so you can move on. Everyone is so surprised. They never saw it coming. Heck, your parents and siblings probably had their wedding outfits picked out already, and were wondering what you were going to name your kids. And odds are, if more than a couple months had passed, you were already wondering the same thing…when and how is he gonna propose?!?

Hold on.

I think this is where we messed it up.

This is COURTSHIP, people. Not a wedding.

Courtship is time when two people who are actively pursuing a marriage relationship can get to know each other on a personal basis to determine whether they are a good fit for each other or not. They can discuss beliefs, opinions, desires, dreams, and ultimately learn as much as they can about each other before taking the step into getting married.

That’s what courtship is.

Courtship is NOT a guarantee for an engagement ring.

Courtship is NOT an assurance that you’ve found the one with whom you want to be with for the rest of your life.

Courtship is NOT a free ticket to a wedding.

But we sure do treat it like it is!

Yes, I do believe that entering a relationship with someone should be taken seriously. I mean, this is someone’s life you are messing with, so you want to be sure that, if everything checks out, this relationship could be something that you would be willing to consummate. It is an exciting time. I mean, its not every day that you find someone whom you genuinely admire and can see yourself (ohmygosh) marrying! And the falling in love part is a-stinkin-mazing, just for the record.

But I think we would do well to tone down the excitement and hype just a tad, so that we are not so shocked and devastated when these things end.

Being in a relationship with someone does not instantly mean that you are going to be planning a wedding in a year or two. We females, especially, have this stuck in our brains. Its no surprise since it is ingrained in our very nature to be relational beings, to crave that sort of relationship and long so deeply for a man to fall in love with us. Its not a bad thing. Really. Its just bad when we make such a big deal about it.

You know what would be really great? To see a meshing of two worlds. To see the serious and the chill coming together. What do you think would happen if we placed the seriousness of courtship with the relaxed, at ease attitude of dating? Probably a culture clash that would result in a full-scale war carried out in vehement Facebook comments and blog posts. But I think you get what I’m saying here.

People in the dating realm spend so much time getting to know each other with very little commitment and a relationship that can easily be broken off. People in the courtship realm spend far less time getting to know each other, but in a setting that demands full commitment and reaps horrid heart consequences if ends without a wedding.

It would just be kinda neat to see a little bit of both.

Call it dating, call it courtship. Call it betrothal for all I care. Whatever label you put on it, the main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing (did ya get that? That was one of the many things my husband told me during our pre-marriage phase). Relationships are important, so make sure you are doing it for the right reason. If you’re doing it for fun and cause you’re attracted to someone, then maybe you need to step back and grow up some more. But if you are doing it because you genuinely desire to find out if this person is the one you want to marry, then my suggestion would be to just…

…CHILL.

Some time ago (over two and a half years ago, in fact), I posted about saving my first kiss for marriage. This post came about three months before I met the man who would become my husband and ultimately change my life forever. It is very interesting to now step back and see just how much I have changed since then…and how my personal experiences have played out compared to how I planned them as a teenager.

At the time of that posting, my friend Jason challenged me that people who made such a declaration were being prideful. In a bad way. I’ll admit I was a little more than a bit offended and came back with a cunning explanation that my declaration of saving my first kiss for my wedding day was a matter of conviction, not pride.

Mmm-hmm.

A year prior to my kissing post, I wrote a very poignant article on the subject of avoiding certain popular books and movies due to their content. It was mostly about Twilight, but I touched on others such as Harry Potter and High School Musical. I must admit…I was brilliant. It was a really good article. This part in particular hit me when I went back to read it again:
“…The last point I mentioned is one particular reason that I refuse to be a part of any Twilight camp. It’s the same reason I’ve never watched High School Musical, Hannah Montana, Harry Potter, or any of the other popular secular infatuations. Obsession with anything but God is wrong. Passion about anything that does not somehow bring glory to God is dangerous. And indulging in something so demonic and so far from God as Twilight is sickening.
“I believe this with my whole heart, and am cautioning my dear brothers and sisters in Christ to think and pray very hard, and to examine the true motives of their hearts before reading or watching Twilight. We are called to be lights in this world and reflections of our Savior. Is Twilight so beneficial to this calling? Is it so necessary to fill our hearts with such a vile concoction, merely for the ability to discredit it or argue about it?”
Wow. I know, right? For a twenty year old, I really had it going! I’m only being just slightly sarcastic here, because in truth, you gotta at least give me the credit of being firm in what I believed, standing my ground, and speaking out for what I thought was right.

I’m not here to bash my past self and say how stupid I was and how my eyes have been opened to the real world and all that blah-blah that usually happens when a homeschooled, Christian kid gets out into life and has a taste of (dare I say?) rebellion.

I am here to say that I’ve learned a lot over the past 3-4 years.

I’m also here to say that the reasons behind my convictions at those points in the past are still the same.

I did get kissed. By my fiancee. Before we were married. Only my brother and his dad knew about it until after the wedding, and it was the sweetest thing in the entire world. Its literally how we got engaged. We had been talking about getting engaged, and when the night finally came that we made the decision, Kyle whispered to me, “If I kiss you, you’ll know its official.” You see, our kiss was important. It was so important that we wanted it to be between us, and only us. We were adults, and we had already gone through a lot as a couple. Most importantly, we wanted to be together. So we made it official with our first kiss. No fanfare or public display. It was just so perfectly us.

The reason behind that kiss was no different than if we had done it for the first time on our wedding day. The specialness and importance was still so evidently there. The timing and experience was all that was different.

I have watched Harry Potter, and am planning on reading the books. I have also watched High School Musical. The latter was simply for fun, and I have to admit I enjoyed the trilogy a whole lot. I have a weird weakness for that type of music. I still have not watched Twilight, and currently have no desire to, simply because I have better things to watch and it just doesn’t interest me right now. But I have a few things to say about Harry Potter.

I was just a little more than super impressed.

The story was brilliant, if a little strange at times. The characters were unique and lovable, and portrayed traits that we could all do well to learn from. They were courageous, undying loyal to those close to them, with real emotions, hopes and dreams. They stood up for what was right, and knew that some things were more important than even their own lives. They were admirable. And unforgettable. Just like a story should be.

And yet again…my reasoning is the same, though perhaps a little more well thought out than before. And perhaps some will call me a hypocrite for this, and for the kissing thing, but it wouldn’t be the first time, so it is what it is. I watched Harry Potter and High School Musical at a point in my life where I could handle it. I still don’t think young kids and even early teenagers should be allowed to pour over such fandoms, because it is too easy to get sucked in. I remembering being 12 years old and so obsessed with Anne of Green Gables that I could hardly think straight. Talk about being impressionable! The thing I liked most about being introduced to them at a later age was the fact that my days of mooning over and dreaming about such stories are over. Sure I will get emotional over stories…(like who didn’t cry when the Doctor says goodbye to Rose? Or what about that feeling when Ron and Hermoine FINALLY kiss? Or when Flynn Rider saves Rapunzel by cutting off her hair?!?!)…but I will cry over them like a normal girl, mop up my face and move on. The end. I’ve enjoyed it and appreciated it, and now there are other stories.

That’s called maturity people. Ok, well maybe sobbing over a Disney movie isn’t maturity. But knowing how to enjoy a story for what it is, pick out the good stuff and leave the rest…that’s maturity.

I’m still naïve. I will still continue to stick my foot in my mouth about seemingly everything that ever comes out of it. But by golly I will defend what I say to the death until something comes along that proves me otherwise! Oh the burden of being a stubborn little know-it-all. I may not know a thing about what I’m talking about, but at least I think I do and I will hold that stance till kingdom come. And there lies my biggest fault. Now you know.

And yet…maybe its not a fault. Maybe I’m just overly passionate. Maybe I just say things about what I believe and about my preferences in life that I should just keep to myself. For instance, just recently I got into a big Facebook married-women-group argument over a post I made about how I irritated I was with mothers who let their kids run rampant around stores and gave their kids a three-count option of obedience. Oh man…did I take some flack for that! A-hundred-and-sixty-some comments later, I was still the bad, judgmental, childless woman that had no idea what I was talking about and should learn to be more humble. Yeah…maybe I should have just kept that one to myself and spared myself the trouble.

The bottom line is this: I learn, but I learn slowly. So odds are I’ll keep saying things that I later will have to revisit because my experiences have given me a better perspective. Just bear with me.

I’ll get it eventually.

Its been a good month. Well, month and a half now that I’m getting to writing this. The wedding went beautifully, the honeymoon was so much fun, and the beginning of our life after has been full of relaxing and enjoying spending lots of time together. And I've learned a few significant things.

I guess I could better say that I've been slowly learning these things over the past 2+ years of knowing Kyle. But they have become especially significant since being around him 24/7 for extended periods of time. Its so true that things start to feel different once you’re with someone all the time. Its one thing to go on a date, or even spend a few days in each others’ presence. But its another thing to live side by side and do everything you would normally do on an average daily basis together. 

Therefore, these are the things that have been heavily on my mind during our first month of marriage.



Being married is all about your perspective. Perspective is huge. Its easy to be nice to someone when you have stars and hearts flying around your head. But keeping that attitude when that person isn't listening, is grumpy, or is just having a bad day...yeah, that's when the challenge comes.
I can't control how my husband treats me. I cannot coerce or dictate his level of romance. I am the only one I can control. It is not up to me to make sure he is loving me enough or being romantic enough to me. My only job is to make sure I am seeing to his needs, loving on him enough, doing above and beyond for him.
My attitude is crucial. How I react and behave is the crux of everything. "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" said it best: "The man may be the head, but the woman is the neck and she can turn the head any way she likes." We women do not realize the power we possess.

For instance, if Kyle is playing a video game and I am bored and want him to spend time with me, I can do one of two things. 1) I can pout and act mad and whine that he isn't paying attention to me. Or... 2) I can take an interest in what he is doing, cuddle up next to him and watch him until he is done.  It's all my choice. Either be happy that he's there with me or whine and make myself miserable. After all, he's a guy and if there is nothing important to do at the moment, there's no reason why he shouldn't enjoy slaying  a few zombies. How I react totally determines the rest of our night.

Yes, obviously guys need to step up, be men, treat their wives beautifully, take care of us, and be our heroes. But not at our bidding. We are not to dictate their behavior towards us. We are only to focus on our behavior towards them and in doing so, invite and entice our knights in shining armor to play their part.

I've written before about applying grace. This falls along the same lines.



We don't have to be perfect. We don't have to have it all together. I don't need to stress out about little stupid things. In twenty years, I won't remember any of it anyways. Odds are, I won't remember that, a month after the wedding, we still didn't have our bed frame set up and there were still boxes of things that needed unpacked. I likely won't remember the amount of time I spent thinking about things I probably could have decided in a few minutes.

Odds are, I'll remember the little things I took advantage of. The way my wedding bouquet looked in that vase on the table. Getting into tickle fights and laughing so hard I could barely breathe. How excited we were the first few times I didn't have to leave the apartment at night to go back to his parents house, or when he could take me home from an event with him. Snuggling in front of a movie. The first bible conference we went together where we actually got to have our own room!! Those are the things I want to remember.

Things are probably going to get difficult. We aren't guaranteed an easy ride in life. All we can do is work hard, be faithful and kind to each other, deal in grace and make the best of every situation. This is our life and we choose how to live it. We have chosen, out of the millions of people on this planet, to spend our lives with each other. We could have picked other people. But no. I chose him and he chose me. We made our choices and now every day must live fulfilling the promises we made to each other.

It doesn't have to be hard. It goes back to that perspective thing. Your attitude is what makes things hard, for the most part. It may not be easy all the time. But it doesn't have to be miserable.

Oh Hello.

Its you.

I can tell you’re surprised to see me. You don’t say anything, barely a greeting, and quickly avert your eyes from mine. I would give you a hug, but I decide I probably shouldn't. You wouldn't like it.

I had hoped there would be a slight chance you’d be glad to see me. Just a glimmer, a smile, a sparkle in your eyes that let me know you still felt even the tiniest bit of love for me. But there’s nothing. Not even a hint. I am less than nothing to you. We are worse than strangers, for we can never become friends.

Do  you remember? Remember that time in your life when I meant something to you?

I remember.

I remember you saying I was your best friend. Your sister. You were the one I confided in and could pour my heart out to.

Your friendship was so important to me. You meant so much to me.

But maybe it wasn't really the friendship I thought it was. What was I really, to you, if you could throw me away that easily? Friends should be able to survive disagreements. It shouldn't be the means of ripping us apart forever.

I know we've established that we were both in the wrong. We both hurt each other. But I’m not here to dig up old scars. I've moved on. I've forgiven you. Honestly, I can’t even remember what the initial argument was about.

All I really want to say is how much I miss you.

I miss your voice, your laugh, the quirky things you’d do, your crazy opinions and thought patterns. I miss never really quite being able to figure you out, and feeling like I could be myself around you. I miss our adventures, our late night talks and giggly, squishy girl hugs.

I miss what I know will never be again.

This is the chance encounter that will likely never happen. These are the words I can never say, the letter I've written a thousand times in my mind that I will never send. The phone call neither of us would make. I would try. In a heartbeat I would pick up the phone and call you. But you've already deemed it pointless.

Okay, yes…losing you was for the best. I guess we needed separation. Perhaps we were too close. Now that I find myself with the husband of my dreams, I can see how our relationship may have interfered with my marriage. But still I wish it had been on better terms.

I wish you could forgive me. I wish that you could show me grace and try to understand me. I wish that reconciliation was an option in your heart.

I wish you could still love me.