Random Budgeting Thoughts from a Never-Budgeter, Transformed into Super Budget Queen

Warning: This blog got LONG…. and if you’re not interested in what a crappy budget manager I used to be, versus the semi-okay budget manger I am now… then do NOT read this. You will not like it.

I am not a financial expert. Not even close. I am not even good at math. I mean I can add and subtract, and even multiply! Sometimes I get fancy and calculate percentages. Which is really all you need to budget. I like to dream, I like to spend money once it enters my hands, and I really have a hard time saving. I believe that this is the way a lot of people would describe themselves, and that is why I feel I can write about this today. Because I am just a regular person trying to make my money work for me, and if I can do it, anyone- seriously- anyone can.

I was an expert at financial failure. Doing all the wrong things financially; taking out loans, opening up credit cards at the wrong time, spending until I simply didn’t have anything left, not knowing how much I had at any one time, picking men that weren’t financially stable (even picking one that stole from me- of course I didn’t know it because I didn’t have a budget in place!), over drafting my bank account, accruing charges from that, accruing late fees, and from previous posts we all know that I almost lost my home, and it wasn’t all my ex’s fault. I had some major fault in that as well. First, I picked a husband that wasn’t financially stable himself. Second, if I had a budget in place at that time and if I had built up a good savings account, I would have seen what was coming. I would have been able to see all the money he was taking, and I might have been able to call him out on things before they got too bad. I would have been able to better prepare us for the impending maternity leave and struggles that were coming. I have to take my blame in that.

But it’s okay.

I can look back and say I will never be that girl again.

And even today, nearly two years after separating from my husband, those financial missteps are still haunting me. I have been trying to get approved for a mortgage loan. I’d like to buy myself and the kids a new home and move on with our lives. Only it’s not that easy. My home was almost in the foreclosure process, and that is in my credit history. It didn’t happen, which I am completely grateful for. But it’s still on my credit history. Then little things that have nothing to do with me have happened, like- there is one “late payment” showing up on my credit history from last year, even though I have no late payments! I got that one cleared away pretty quickly, but there is stumbling block after stumbling block, and it is stressful, not very joyful at all.

So the lesson, for me, is the financial decisions I make, even seemingly small ones, can affect me and my family for years to come. I know that seems simplistic, because it is! All I have to do is stop, think logically, “Is this the best financial move I could be making right now?”

We might not like the answer that we get when asking that question, but it’s imperative to our future and our children’s future. I may potentially have to wait at least one more year before purchasing a new home. Carly will be in 9th grade this year, so that means after that she may only be home for 3 more years, if she goes away to college. It makes me want to give her a home NOW. Not next year. I want her to be proud of the home she lives in, proud of her mother, proud to bring her friends over! But logically, I know that the best thing to do is… simply… wait. And many times that is the hardest thing to do. I am from the generation that doesn’t know what patience feels like anymore. It is personally one of my biggest struggles, waiting. It’s torture. I know what I want, I know that I want it right now. Why can’t I have it?

“Slow down, Lori, all in My timing.”

I got a little annoyed that God cared about me so much the moment I heard that.  Why do you have to make your voice so clear to me during this time?

Waaaah, but I WANT IT!

“Perhaps”, I hear again,” it’s because these decisions will greatly affect you and your children for the rest of your lives. Even if you don’t see it now.”

Alright then. I hear you, loud and clear. Time for me to learn some patience. And I still have a lot to learn about budgeting.

The good news is, no matter where you are in your financial struggle, I promise you can get better. With patience, budgeting, and accountability from those who care about you, you can do it. The great thing about living in the U.S. is we can always change our status, if only we put in the time and effort.

Since September of 2016 ( only 8 short months ago) I started a budget spreadsheet for myself. With no help from anyone. I simply decided I had enough of living like that.

I had -$402.78 in my bank account and $0.00 in savings. That big red number is a NEGATIVE number. I know this because I put those numbers (begrudgingly) into a spreadsheet, which I still have, and I look at it. Daily. I knew how far I could go in the hole with the bank before I’d be cut off, and I knew I didn’t want to have to know that number anymore. What I didn’t really know was how to fix it.

The first step was to see where every penny was going, as Dave Ramsey teaches, every penny has a place. By the way, mentioning Dave Ramsey, I highly recommend his classes. Although there are some things that I disagree with on his plan. I do not think people should have to live without a credit score, or credit cards, or without a mortgage or car payment. I believe you can pay off your car payment with this system rather quickly and keep your car until the wheels fall off, but I don’t think to be financially successful you have to do those things. If you can manage these things, I commend you. Most people need a variation of those things, at least until they have played this budget game for a while longer.

I played around the first month with how the spreadsheet should look, how detailed it should be, etc. It was messy and disorganized at first, just like my brain was. It hurts to look at now, but in the beginning, it worked.  And by November I had perfected and simplified the sheet that works for me, with an added line out to the side for “savings”- something I had never even attempted in all honesty.

I have never said this… but I love Justin Timberlake, so…..

Six months later, which was in March, with all bills paid for the month and having just taken a trip to Six Flags, I had $1074 in my checking account, and $4900 in savings. And remember, six months before this, I had (negative) >-$400.00 in checking, and $0.00 in savings.

I am beyond ecstatic that I now know how to make my money work for me, instead of the other way around. It is a new and wonderful feeling not to have to worry every day about how I’m going to get to work, and how many more days this one tank of gas might last me… and if my kids should need something for school or extra curricular activities, how will I pay for it?? Not too long ago, my daughter shared with me that she used to feel guilty for asking for anything, and I mean anything- lunch money, a new pair of shoes, simple things, because she “knew we never had any money”— and it was heartbreaking to hear my child say those words.

Never again.

 In eight months I have turned my financial life around. I am a single mom with two children, ages 14 years and 20 months. Both who have very different but very expensive needs. I am receiving no financial support from my ex. I am my only income. I am in school and I work one full time job. I make just below $40,000 annually, gross wages plus bonuses. I work at a steel mill, and I make quarterly bonuses. And yes, those are in the budget. I don’t know exactly how much I’ll be getting, but I can guesstimate on the low end, and then if I get more than that, then great!

I am working my way back to putting the kind of money into my 401K that I need to be, right now I am giving 6%. In the next 6 months, I am going to make that amount 7%. I am taking baby steps to gain more and more financial freedom. And it’s working.  I was able to purchase my daughter’s braces ($5000 over 18 months- paid in full), and I was able to take her on her first ever trip to Six Flags…and was able to let her get anything she wanted while she was there. She and her friend wanted a caricature, so they got one. She wanted cotton candy at $10 per bag. Done. She wanted a shirt and a necklace and some more candy. You got it baby. I even bought my son Asher a new stuffed baby giraffe, which he adored as soon as he laid eyes on it, and I got myself a shirt. We had an amazing time with our friends. I know it may not be a big deal to many of you- but it’s absolutely huge for me to be able to give my kids a normal and carefree childhood.

The key for me is having a plan. Even if that plan has to change several times, at least I have a blueprint for how to make it work for me. Making sure I account for the upcoming bills, holidays, school tuition, sports, groceries, gas, etc. I keep in the back of my mind, “Every penny has a purpose.” I try to think ahead to the next month, what bills will I probably have during that month? If you don’t let anything catch you by surprise, when something inevitably does catch you by surprise (like God forbid a car wreck or car repairs, home repairs, braces, anything!) then it won’t be as catastrophic on your finances.

I have made a spreadsheet that works for me, and you can make a spreadsheet that works for you, a road map, and you don’t have to stick to it like it’s the end all be all if you mess up or need to change something- tweak it. I tweak mine DAILY to make it work for me. But those first few months you must be REALLY diligent, cut back on the things you don’t need, or can do without, not spending over what you’ve allowed yourself, you’ll see those dollar signs getting bigger and bigger each month. If you own a car that is 1/3 of your monthly income, it’s time to sell the car and get one that aligns within your budget constraints, even better if you can pay a few thousand cash for one, then you have a car, and no payment! If you have room for a roommate, get a roommate for a while, stick that money into savings. If you can do what I did, if you have family to lean on, move in with them for a while until you get your habits under control. Rent out your house and put it all in the bank. I do understand that not everyone has that luxury, but there are so many options. Get on WIC for help with food if you have children. I wasn’t approved for food stamps, but I had no qualms about getting on them if I was approved. Use these things to your advantage. There is always help, always someone or something there to help get you through that most difficult bit. It was so difficult at first, and I still have to remind myself to be diligent. That seems to be the hardest part for me- having that money in hand and wanting to take my babies shopping or on a cruise or whatever pops into my very spontaneous mind…but I tell myself, “Just stay focused. Your life will be enriched for having done so.”

I have every two weeks, up to December of 2018 budgeted out. Yes, 2018. 18 months ahead, because it helps to see what you can do with your money if you stick to a budget. IF I stick to my proposed budget, I should  be at around 10K in my savings account. And that is a huge deal. This will be the first year of my life that I will not “blow” my tax return. I will not cry out of desperation for gas money. I will not wonder if I can buy my daughter school supplies or get my child that cute outfit. I will accomplish more than I ever thought possible on a TIGHT budget!

The biggest thing I think has helped me the most is…use your tax return to your advantage! Put it in savings, don’t touch it! Use it ONLY for Mortgage and Utility payments! Two HUGE payments that now… are GONE! They don’t come out of your weekly check! This then leaves you with EXTRA money each month to do things like, shop, fix the car, go on a trip, buy school supplies, and put more money in savings.

Yes I was the sad meme that went shopping with tax money.

 But the best piece of advice I’ve received is,”Live like a nobody today, so you can live like nobody else tomorrow.” It has stuck with me throughout this process, and it helps me when I am feeling the itch of spending unnecessarily.

 

If you have questions about how to get your budget in line and make your money work for you, please message me or leave a comment below. I am happy to help, send you my budget spreadsheet, answer questions, anything. Again, I am still learning, but I’d love to help other people who struggle, if you need it. ❤

Have an amazing budget friendly day!

MorningLori

My Thoughts

Today I write. Today I am just going to put my feelings down, everything that is jumbled up in my head that I want to get down. I will resume my normal blog stories soon, but today, I don’t want to talk about him. For today, I want to document the things that are important to me in this moment. I have a million small stories in my head, so I’m going to list a few of them here. Each paragraph will be a different story. I hope it’s not too convoluted, but I need to get this all down on “paper” so to speak.

1. Carly and Asher played together last night. I mean they really played. They giggled and laid in the floor together, they chased one another, Carly pushed him on this dumb little worm car ( I should have never bought the thing- no kid can operate it, so an adult MUST push it, and the wheels don’t turn and it’s just awkward and I hate it) – nonetheless, Carly and Asher genuinely hung out like brother and sister last night. They even fought over a pillow, in a silly way. Tug-of-war style. It was just so much fun to watch them. Asher wanted to do just what Carly was doing, if she stomped her feet he would too, if she laid down in the floor, he had to be right next to her, with his own matching blanket.

Carly and Asher being twins.    

 

2. I am in my Junior year of college, doing all online classes now, because there is no time for anything else. This semester I am taking Precalculus and U.S. History. Last night, as I was studying for today’s first History test, Carly called me in, she needed help with her Algebra, and y’all, I was able to help her. It was amazing. I told her, “God must have known you’d need some help and he was getting me ready to help you by putting me in math this semester!” And she responded with,” You know, I’ve been listening to a lot of Christian music lately, I just love it. It’s so uplifting.” I know it doesn’t seem huge, but it’s nice to know that my girl is making the decision to listen to Godly music. There are a lot of choices out there, a lot of decisions for our teens to make, and she’s making pretty good ones. I am so proud of her. And then, y’all, I got a GENUINE thank you from her for the math help before I went to do my own studying. Life’s struggles are totally worth it for my girl.

3. I was reading a story last night about a man that raped his infant son. It was local to the state of Alabama, where I live. He tore the lining under the babies’ tongue, he broke his legs, his ribs, and other atrocities that couldn’t even be mentioned in the article. I cried myself to sleep.I can’t begin to fathom the life that poor baby has lived. His life has probably never known trust, calm, love, or peace. My heart breaks. I weep for him, even now. I decided I needed to check in on my smallest kiddo, and was fully prepared to take him back to bed with me if I woke him up. I kind of hoped he would wake up. But, when I crept into Asher’s room, he had his arm around his stuffed pony that he sleeps with. He was sleeping and quite content. He has never known distrust, he has never known real and actual hurt from a loved one, he will never know it from me, and I will do my best to protect him from those that would choose to do so. He lights up when I get home from work and holds onto me until he is forced to let go again the next day. He has renewed my sense of beauty in the world, but he has also renewed my fear of it. There is so much that could go wrong at any time, to either of my sweet babies. We as parents pray it will never happen but that never means we are safe from the evil that lives around us.

4. Speaking of evil in the world, I want to foster. I want to one day adopt. You guys will have noticed there is a trend in my stories. They are centered around my children. Children are my heart. They always have been. I saw a meme yesterday that someone shared, and it was a woman in a video. Her name is Lisa Bevere. She said, “The attacks on your life have much more to do with who you might be in the future than who you have been in the past. The enemy fears you becoming who God has made you to be.” This could relate to me, but I think it relates more to the kids in the foster care system. Look at their lives. Did they ever have a chance? If good people would step up, of course they would. Satan fears them. He doesn’t want them to become great men for God. But as Christian people, if we would step up and do our part to break the cycle of abuse, the cycle of evil, then the world truly would be a better place. I want to be that person. Last year was my attempt to get my own life back in order. I am still working on that even now, but I am light years ahead of where I was last year in terms of mental attitude, financial dependence, and a determined spirit. I have a plan. I work on it and tweak it daily. But my big picture goal is to one day take in at least one foster child. It may be next year, or even in a few years, but I am working on it, and letting God handle the timing. This is my goal, powered by God, and I will not be deterred. And as I was writing this, a friend of mine posted on Facebook that she adopted her son today. She has not been able to share his bright and amazing face for 6 months. Today, she floods Facebook with his existence and it renews my hope once again. This. Can. Happen.    This. WILL. Happen. If you’re reading this and you pray, please pray for my continued guidance to bring children to me that need me. Scratch that, that need Him. I need Him. I fail daily. I know that. Pray for my continued growth as well.

5. I have so much to do and so little time to do it in. I am taking a personal day next Monday to get it all done, and I still don’t think I’ll have time to get everything done. Dentist appointment for cleaning (and a filling), meeting with my lawyer,  meeting with St Paul’s preschool, I have an appointment at Apple to get my phone looked at, I have a meeting at the Health Department, I have to go grocery shopping.. I have… not enough hours in the day!!! Whew, good thing I bought that new handy dandy planner. We’ll see if I can get it all done!

6. I am in the process of trying to decide what is best financially for me regarding my home. Currently I have some really nice folks renting the house out from me. Their lease is up at the end of July, and I am trying to make some decisions. I have a few options:

1. Sell my house and live with my parents for another year, paying them rent (which I already do). Upside: I will be able to save a lot of money. Downside: Close quarters makes for trying times.
2. Sell my house and purchase another home in Hartselle, which is where Carly goes to school. Currently I pay tuition for her to attend there each year. I’ve spent about $4000 on her in her lifetime on her school tuition alone. -Upside: I won’t have to pay tuition anymore, I will own a new home, in the city I’ve wanted to live in for a long time. It will be a breeze getting Carly to school every morning. Downside: I won’t have as much money to put back in savings each month. Especially if I buy the priced house I want, because once I move, I don’t want to have to move again, at least not for a long time.
3. Stay in my house for the next year, bide my time, save up some more money, and move in another year or two. – Downside: I have been doing option 3 for ten years, saying I’ll sell, then finding some reason to back out, and then never selling and never getting to move. Anyone have any sound advice?

 

Okay, this concludes Lori’s random thought process blog for today. Stay tuned! 🙂 Love you all.

 

Lori

Happy Birthday!

I was planning Carly’s 11th birthday party, a feat I had done 10 times before, and I was pretty good at it. Although, this time, I had invited around 10 little girls to spend the night in our home. YIKES! So, I needed help if I could get it. I had games planned, cakes ordered, presents purchased, everything. And Chris had recently seemed more interested in becoming an active part of Carly’s everyday life again, which thrilled me for Carly. I was absolutely ecstatic for her. I had plans of involving him as much in her life as he would accept. So, I invited Chris to come stay at our house and help with Carly’s party. He would be invited only for the party portion, and then go home close to the end of the night, whenever that happened to be. He had never really even been to one of her parties before, apart from the ones we threw with his family, and I just knew this would be a great bonding experience for the two of them. He showed up the night of her party, and a gaggle of girls showed up with some parents staying to help as well. It was an amazing and fun night- full of glow in the dark hide-and-seek, prizes, tin foil costumes, a Wii dance party (with a house full of kids and a few adults thrown in all dancing together!), cake, presents, giggling, shirt painting, and just absolute fun. Chris even had fun around all those screaming girls. He was grinning from ear to ear. We braided little girls’ hair, we ate cake and chips and had a blast. Carly seemed so proud to have both her parents in one place, and it reminded me that she had never had that feeling before- both of her parents present, and happy, even enjoying one another. She beamed with pride. I was so happy to see Carly happy that I told Chris just to stay over, sleep on the couch, and he could be there when she woke up. So he obliged, which was great because I really needed the help late into the night anyway. Did you know it’s really hard to get a group of screaming girls to go to bed at a decent hour?? Yeah, I should have known. But it was so much fun.

Carly and some of her 11th birthday crew

And it surprised me how much fun I had with Chris, whom I had always called “Carly’s dad”. I did this on purpose. I’d kept my distance emotionally from him, trying to never look him in the eye if he happened to be there when I picked Carly up from her mamaw’s house. I didn’t speak to him about Carly, he knew nothing about her days at school, her grades, her friends, her struggles, her achievements, not because I didn’t want him to know, he just didn’t seem to ever care. I didn’t know this person that I’d had two children with. I was an adult now, I owned a home, I had a preteen, I had dated, I knew what I deserved in a man, and what I knew him to be- well, he was not anything close to what I wanted. He did always have a charming smile that I could never get over, and he made me laugh constantly, and something about him always continued to draw me to him, but I never dared tell him that. It was too dangerous, and I knew that he was always battling his addiction. He’d go to rehabs, many many rehabs, which his parents paid for, but he’d always end up on that stuff again. Over the years, almost every time I had seen him, he’d still tell me that he loved me, tell me that if I would just take him back that he could get clean, and he would even propose to me every couple of years, partly to be funny, and partly to let me know that he still cared about me. He even had a girlfriend one time who he’d told up front that if I ever even hinted that I was interested in him, that he’d leave her flat and come running to me. He had always “loved” me and let everyone know that. He told his friends and family over those 11 years how he wished he could get clean, get straight, and get his family back, that he would never want another thing in this world if he could have Carly and myself back in his life. I never took any of this seriously, because he was a dope addict, and I had learned over the years first hand that he tended to be overly emotional and never use logic. For instance, he would say all these things, crying while he said them in fact, despite the fact that he never seemed to care about me while we were together as kids, despite the fact that he never paid any child support and never offered any, even though there were many years that times were tough and Carly and I did without, and despite the fact that he was barely there as a father for Carly, only on the two weekends per month that she went to his parents’ home, and that was if he didn’t have more important things to do like get high. But now, sitting face to face with him at my home, he was more mature than I’d ever seen him. He told me about how he’d been in the drug court program for over a year already, and how they had sent him away to really get clean. He was gone for quite some time at a rehab down south, and during his stay at this rehab he had accepted Jesus as his savior, and he had realized how awful he had been to us, and how he hadn’t helped me in any way with Carly, yet I still always allowed him to see her whenever he requested (which was rare) and I was just the best mom to sweet Carly. He told me how he had great respect for me, and he looked up to me, he wanted to be as good at being a dad as I was at being a mom. This, for completely understandable reasons, melted me. Again, not in a romantic sense, but in the sense that I felt that Carly would finally have the father she had wanted her entire life, and what’s even better, it was her actual dad. I had never heard him speak this way about anything. He was reasonable, calm, he was asking for forgiveness, he was acutely aware of all the wrongs he had committed against us, and he was stating that he wanted to make it right. I committed to co-parenting at that moment, this was my chance to make sure Carly had as normal a childhood as possible.

About a week later, I had tickets to a hockey game that my company sponsored, and I invited Chris to go with us, and this was the start of our co-parenting journey. We walked around Big Spring Park after the game, and enjoyed each others’ company. After that, for a few weekends, I didn’t see him. Things went back to normal. He didn’t pressure me to see him, and that made me trust him even more, because the old Chris that I knew would have been trying to focus on me, and not our daughter or his own life. Chris spent his weekends with Carly, and one weekend I asked him if he wanted to go visit the Indian burial mounds with us when I picked her up. He said he’d like to, and so we went. On that trip to the burial mounds, something happened, and I don’t know why, but I felt our relationship turning, from a co-parenting relationship, to a romantic one. We got along so well, and this was how it was supposed to be right? Mom, dad, and daughter, together? He seemed to have changed so much, seemed so mature. I decided to leave it alone. I was still too scared of what could go wrong, that I wasn’t about to bring up anything like a relationship. Things were great, so we co-parented. My 29th birthday was coming up the next month, and I was going to take a big risk, and ask Chris to accompany me to my birthday dinner along with some friends. We definitely had some romantic tension going on, but neither of us were discussing it at this point. I had not felt actual butterflies in my stomach in quite some time, and it was exciting. I thought, “Finally, Chris has grown up. He’s a good man. A Christian man. Maybe this was meant to work out. Maybe…maybe…” but I wouldn’t allow myself to finish the thought.

Meanwhile, Carly was putting little bugs in my ear, while riding home from the burial mounds:

“You know, dad still loves you, right? He talks about you all the time.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep. He won’t shut up about you.”

“Well, that’s nice. I’m glad he’s come around to being in our lives more. That makes me happy. I’m glad that he got clean- he did that for you, baby girl.”

“Yeah. Me too! I’m glad he’s around all the time.”

I know I’ve already said it, but she beamed with pride whenever we went somewhere, the three of us. She was so proud to introduce us as her “mom and dad”. That “and” meant a lot to her. This was something she had never had before. And I cherished the look on her face when she got to say it. It made me want Chris around always, and I look back now knowing those weren’t the right reasons for wanting him around. My intentions were good of course, but I had never dated someone that Carly actually even liked, and now her dad was around all the time, and she loved it. It made me seriously think.

The next few weeks, and my birthday dinner, would prove to be the turning point in our entire dynamic.

 

Finding a Place of Our Own- My Story Part 7

*Note- I have learned how to add pictures to my posts- and I think it will really add something to them. I will be going back to my earlier blogs over the next week to add other pictures- of me as a teenager, of our first born Hailey, etc. so if you’d like to feel the feels again, check back on those earlier blog posts!*

Carly was perfection. She was squishy and pink and gorgeous. She was a great baby- breastfed well, slept well (through the night at three months old!) and was just the biggest blessing I could have ever hoped for.

Carly Joy at 4 weeks old.

She was the light of my life, the best thing I had ever experienced, and I loved (and still love) being her mommy. My parents taught me how to raise Carly, when to take her to the doctor and when to just give her Tylenol, when to give her baths (doesn’t have to be every night when she’s a newborn!) and when to start brushing her gums, when to start feeding her solid foods, how to comfort her, how to change her diaper, how to clip her little nails, there is SO much that goes into being a mommy and/or daddy that people don’t even think about. The sleepless nights, the exhaustion, especially when you are doing it on your own. It was necessary time at home for me to truly understand how to actually be a mom, even though I loved this little angel with all I had, but I just wasn’t sure, as most new moms must think, how to do it right.

After a few years though, it was time to start thinking of moving on to our own home together, just Carly and myself. Now, during this time, because I know you’re wondering, Chris was not really in Carly’s life all that much. He would come in and out of our lives, whenever he’d feel the need to come by. We even took a family photo when Carly was around six months old.

Chris’s 2003 lemon-juice died hair, and my first “mom” hair cut.

Isn’t she beautiful? Look at that amazing little thing we made. I still have to laugh and smile and cry all at once looking at her sweetness. She is awesome.

Back on point, Chris was only around at times when it was convenient for him to be. He loved his daughter, and I would dare say he loved me, but he had given in to drugs, and had let it take him over. He did not pay child support, or help us in any way. He lived his life of partying, doing drugs, and occasionally coming by to check on Carly for the first year or so. Life was not about him any longer anyway, it was about Carly. So on with life we went.

Carly and I went to the park, we had adventure days, we read books every night, I tucked her sweet tail into bed every night (okay, sometimes she snuggled up and we slept in the same bed). Life was good at mom and dads.

My mom holding Carly, her first smile we were able to get a picture of. 

I eventually had to get a job and did so when Carly was about six months old. My mother helped get me a position at her dental office, helping file paperwork and do data entry. It was my first real job in the actual job market. We celebrated Christmas at my parents, then had Carly’s first birthday on January 8th, 2004. We had a second party at Chris’s families’ house, and their entire family celebrated with us. Carly’s Aunt Amy made Carly a beautiful bear shaped birthday cake, and Carly took her first steps by herself ON her birthday! It was an awesome first year.

Carly’s first birthday at my parent’s house, eating her birthday cake.

It’s a natural thing to want to move out and become and adult, but an entirely different thing when you have a daughter and you still feel like a child. Little did I know, I still actually was a child, but you couldn’t have told me that.We lived with my parents  until Carly was about 18 months old, then I decided I was old enough to start living on my own. My first try at living alone was in an apartment complex behind a church in Decatur, I want to say they only charged me around $700 for the entire six months that we lived there. Looking back, that’s insane and awesome. Thank you Calvary Assembly, for giving us that blessing. We had a roommate, Carly called her “Kappie” and boy she loved her Kappie- you know who you are!! She is one of the sweetest, most Godly women I have ever met in my life. And it’s true that the company you keep is what you will reflect. While staying with Kappie my life became centered once again around church and God. She doesn’t really know the impact she’s had on my life, because those six months I felt closer to God than I think I ever have. I woke up and worshiped, prayed, and read my Bible. I learned to love Carly in an entirely new light. And yes, Kappie, I apologize now, I was absolutely the messiest housekeeper (not that you could even have called me that) you’d ever run across. I am naturally a more messy person, they do say we are smarter, you know. But, if she reads these blogs, she’ll attest to the fact that I was actually kind of gross. I don’t even want to discuss that time I left the dishes in the sink that one time you were away for a few days….. YUCK. I had never lived on my own, and really wasn’t accustomed to picking up after myself, or doing anything really. I was a kid with a full time job and a child, and used that as an excuse to be lazy. I am so sorry, girl, for putting you through that. I have since gotten MUCH better. Although my mother may not agree (she’s a bit of a clean freak, I can still leave the dishes in the sink until the morning and it doesn’t bother me). Sorry to you as well, mom… but I am much more organized and less lazy than I used to be….maybe?

In our short-lived but well-loved apartment.

So after that small grasp of freedom, we moved back in with mom and dad for a while longer. I really couldn’t afford anything else at the time, and my job as a barista wasn’t really going to allow me to pay any rent anywhere. So we moved back home. I had a few different jobs, I was a shampoo assistant at a salon in downtown Decatur for a couple years, and it was while working there that I decided I just could not live at home any longer.

I need to mention that at this point, Carly was going to her grandparent’s house every other weekend to visit them, and if Chris happened to be there, so be it. If he wasn’t, that was fine too, at least she got to visit with her grandparents and various other cousins and family. I also need to mention that at this point, when Carly was around 18 months to 2 years old, that’s when I started dating again, and pretty heavily, I’m ashamed to admit. Because I had two weekends a month now to be an “adult” without having Carly with me, I was again looking for love.  I wanted a father figure for Carly, someone to be there for us, someone to love me. I wasn’t confident in who I was as a person, and I suppose a lot of that comes with age and maturity, and so even though I dated some really amazing guys (and some not so amazing) over the years, I never truly appreciated them. Even with all I had gone through, Chris was still the one in my head, as idiotic as that sounds. I could break up with the most amazing guy, and not really feel much of anything. Chris tugged at my heart. I think a lot of it was that we had been through so much together, and another part of it was my dumb childish brain wanting the drama which I misinterpreted as passion. Good guys can be considered “boring” can’t they? Boy do I wish I could have appreciated the boring. I look back at how crazy my thought process was, how I couldn’t be confident in myself, and therefore be confident in a healthy relationship. Perhaps it just wasn’t the right time, or who really knows. There are a lot of stories I could put in here about each of them, some of them not so great, most of them just fine people, and a couple of them were really extraordinary guys, men I couldn’t see the potential in because I was just young and selfish. There isn’t much more to say about this, except that I do regret not taking some time when Carly was younger to truly find myself as a person, and just enjoy being her mom, and I regret treating some of the guys I dated the way that I did. I’m sure at some point I’ll have a few blogs and funny/sad/memorable stories about some of these, but for now- suffice it to say, I dated a lot.

In 2006 I decided that it was time to move out of my parents’ home, and I was going to move in with my best friend at the time and rent a place, but dad said it was senseless to pay rent when you could get a house for much cheaper and actually own it. So, after the very first house we looked at, I bought it, and dad co-signed with me. In October of 2006 I bought my home. The yard was huge, there was a pear tree out back. 1600 square feet of MINE. I was 21 years old. Carly was almost 4 when we signed for it. We had our very own 3 bedroom, 1 bath sanctuary. It was heaven.

Carly in our new home. 

We painted rooms, my dad fixed a lot of the house up on his own dime, all to help us create the life that we wanted. The A/C was busted up by some hoodlums before we could move in, so dad bought me an entirely new unit and installed it himself- that’s right- himself, because he’s amazing. The bathroom had to be gutted and completely redone, including floors that had rotted in. Dad purchased me all new cabinets, and tile for the floors- he even replaced a paneled room into sheet rocked walls. He did so much work for us, I owe my dad so much for helping us get started out in life. We have laughed, cried, had pets, had friends, family and neighbors over to that house. It’s been a great home to raise my baby girl in.

So the years passed, we enjoyed our friends, pets, family and our home. Chris would come again in and out of Carly’s life as he deemed fit. Sometimes he would show up, other times he would not be seen for days at a time by anyone. He would go to rehabs, get clean, then fall off the wagon again. His parents would help me out monetarily sometimes when I asked, but mostly I didn’t ask. I was strangely okay with our arrangement for the most part, because Carly got to see her dad at her grandparents house, I didn’t have to see him all that often, and life was pretty normal. He would even bring his girlfriends around sometimes, and I would bring mine around too…. Until January of 2014, and Chris had been clean for the last two years, as he put it. I decided since he did seem completely normal again, that he could be a normal part of our lives again. We could co-parent again, we could be together with Carly as much as possible and give her a normal childhood. That’s when I invited Chris to come help with Carly’s 11th birthday party….and things took a different turn.

My Story Part 6-A Joy to be Home

*Hint, If you’re just joining, please read the first 5 parts before continuing!

Finally, I could rest. After my mom picked me up from the Lacy home, I was so thankful to leave the depressing life I had been living for only a few months. Chris had drained the life out of me. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I just knew I wanted to be Carly’s mommy, and I knew my own mommy could lead the way. For the next few weeks I slept in the bed with my mother- a 17 year old girl, pregnant with her second child, and I needed my Mom.

When I got home, it was a breath of fresh air. Mom took me shopping for proper maternity clothes, I remember specifically this brown corduroy coat mom bought me, and I thought it was huge because I was getting so big, but boy would I give my left boob to be that small again, even in pregnancy! We started to decorate her room in vintage Winnie the Pooh decor. I couldn’t have gone home at a better time. I started to get excited at the prospect of having my sweet baby girl.

Mom threw me a shower, and more people showed up than would fit in the house. I bet there were 60 people in that house that day. I felt so loved, but also quite pitied. That was the first time I’d felt like people looked at me like a sad, helpless, hopeless little girl. I suppose my personality hardened a bit at that point, I didn’t like being looked at in that way. It wasn’t that the ladies that were there even meant to do it, I am sure they were saddened by the entire situation. At the time, I couldn’t see that part of it. Only their little head-tilts and half-smiles as I opened up each present. But looking back now, I know each of those ladies would not have been there loving on me if they didn’t truly care. They were so sweet to me. I truly was a kid, a self-involved little girl that couldn’t even appreciate these wonderful women that had joined together to shower me with gifts. So, if you were there that day, as many of you were- Thank you. So very much, for being there for me when you didn’t have to be. Thank you for taking time out of your life to get together, pool your money together, get me amazing gifts like strollers, car seats, clothes, diapers, (OH SO MANY DIAPERS!) and even wonderful surprises like gift cards to continue the help on after the baby would arrive. I am so very thankful to Chris’s family for being there for me, they bought me a stroller and car seat combo, some of their family was there, and ALL of my family was there, along with many of my mom’s friends from church. You all just rock my socks off.

So fast forward a couple months, I am prepping for baby, graduating from my senior year of home school, and getting more swollen by the day. We have Christmas, I’m huge and pregnant, AGAIN. But this time, Christmas goes smoothly. New Years is calm and feels like a fresh start. January rolls around- time to have a baby.

I spoke with my doctor about inducing my labor after the first of the year, if she had not come on her own by that time. She had indeed not come on her own, and I was tired of being gargantuan. They scheduled my induction for January 8th, and when the day arrived, I can tell you I was so ready. I remember that then it wasn’t as common to get a French Pedicure, and the doctors saw my feet in the hospital bed and were duly impressed. I have a picture of the doc and nurses holding my feet up, with a genuinely confused but impressed look on their faces. Ah, the good ole days.

My induction had begun, Chris was nowhere to be found. Chris had been harder and harder to get in touch with over the last few months. We were not together anymore, but I still wanted him to be a part of the entire process. I wanted him to get to be a dad, as he so desperately seemed to want to be before. His family was there, my mother and other family was there, and my dad generally has no use for hospitals and as far as I remember he was not there, but I do know he would be there to pick us up and bring us home later.

Induction didn’t seem to help little Carly along, I had been having contractions for hours but was not getting any closer to pushing. The doctors were afraid it would damage the baby if we waited any longer. They decided the reason it had taken me so long with little Hailey before was that my pelvic bones were not aligned in the correct position to give birth. Most women’s hips spread throughout pregnancy, and mine had not done this through either birth, and so I was too narrow to push any sized baby through. This explained why it took 2 days to have even a small baby like Hailey, much less a full term baby. So, with this decision made I was wheeled to the emergency C-Section room and prepped for surgery quickly.

My mother was by my side the entire time. She was my rock throughout the entire process. She even had a little button recorder to put in a baby book, which she would record our precious angel baby’s first cry on. We got to the surgery room, and of course I was very nervous. I had already been shot with my extra strong epidural to numb any possible pain, but I was so scared because of what happened the last time. I was so excited that finally, even with all the pain, that I would get to take a baby home. I would be “Mommy”. My mom was very excited, she was watching the doctors and looking at me, telling me it was all going to be okay. I would nod my head but the tears were flowing. I was becoming so emotional, and then…. a cry. A beautiful babies’ cry. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard in my life. I was so filled with love, with happiness, with joy… in that moment, on the table, I told my mom, “Her name is Carly Joy.” They showed me my big blue-eyed screaming baby girl, pink and purple and full of life. I couldn’t help but be elated. Then they swept her away for tests, bath, etc. In those days it was not common to ask for skin to skin contact, or to see the baby right after delivery. You just did as they told you because they are the doctors. I was very groggy and passed out for a while.

Not long after, I woke up surrounded by close family, and it was time to nurse. I remember that she did so well, she latched on like a pro. I was the amateur. I remember, when they wheeled us back into the recovery room that Chris was there, standing with his mom. He looked like a scared little boy, I will never forget his helpless face. He seemed again to have regret all over his face. Regret I suppose that he hadn’t been there for the birth of his daughter, or for me at all.

I was in the hospital a couple days as is customary for a C-section birth. We were given the all-clear to go home, and my dad brought the car to the hospital and helped load us up. All I could do was stare at that sweet little Carly Joy. Play with her fingers. Kiss her forehead. The entire car ride home I just stared at amazement in what I had made. In those first days, in the first moment I heard her cry, she became the only thing. My sweet girl was the first real love of my life. She is where my joy comes from. She will always be my salvation.

Thank you Carly, for showing me what true love is.

My Story, Part 5- Going Home

Chris and I had stayed behind while the rest of the family journeyed north to see the tractor show. I had hopes that the weekend would now be calm, no more surprises, just cuddle up with my love, watching TV, and trying to recuperate from the insane car accident we had just been through. The abrasion on my chin hurt, but I was thankful we still had our lives, and I still had my baby. I held my tummy and talked to my sweet baby and hoped that it would be okay. I worried the rest of my pregnancy that something would go wrong. It’s hard not to do, when you’ve lost a child. Constantly second guessing yourself, analyzing every feeling, every sense of dread, every little detail that might “mean” something. I know many of you have been through it, and you know exactly the feeling I mean.

While the weekend should have been about calm, rest, and even just being careful and listening to my body enjoying the child that was growing in me, as per usual, it didn’t end up that way. Chris was sitting in the recliner watching TV. I was being a good girlfriend, sitting on the floor, back on the recliner, rubbing his feet while we watched whatever show was on. He had these thick socks on, and I couldn’t rub his feet properly, so I went to slide his socks off, slipping my hand in the top of the sock… and felt a plastic baggie.

I had no idea what this could be of course, naive as I was. I pulled it out as Chris started to jump up in a panic. I could tell then it was weed, even though I had never seen it before. I started screaming and was so upset, he was blabbering excuses and trying to figure out one that I’d believe or accept. It was not the first time he’d disappointed me, nor would it be the last, but it was the first time I’d caught him with actual drugs. It may not be a big deal these days, or to most people anyway, but for me it was huge. You already know what kind of girl I was, I was the goody-two-shoes, I was the girl who never did anything, and it was bad enough that I was already knocked up for the second time by this kid, but now it turns out he is smoking weed around his pregnant girlfriend… I couldn’t handle it. I ran to the bathroom, threw it in the toilet, and flushed. I was heartbroken. Of course if had known the hard drugs he was actually  starting to do at that time, weed would have been at the bottom of my list of concerns.

As riled up as I had been, I forgave Chris, because, what else could I do? I was living with him, having his baby, had no job or foreseeable future, so this is where I was. I had to make it work. And he was ever the apologist, kisses and hugs and “You’re so wonderful, thank you for being understanding and forgiving…” and all that. It was always hard to stay mad at Chris, because he really had the best apologies, and even in the worst of times, he could make me laugh. He truly is a very funny guy, always cracking everyone up, being goofy and just trying to make people smile. So him knowing me better than anyone, he could make me laugh even if I was angry. We moved on with life and our pregnancy.

We found out soon that we were having a baby girl. The name picking began! I still had the baby name book we used for Hailey, that Chris’s sister-in-law had given us before, so we used that one again. I still have that book, even today. I went through so many names, from Chloe to Kinley to Quinley, I exhausted all options. Then, Chris suggested Carly. Carly… hmmm, I really liked the sound of it, he was more decisive than I was, so I decided he could pick her first name, and I would be the one to pick her middle name. Have I mentioned yet that I am a little bit of a procrastinator, and that I have trouble making final decisions? Well, I am those things. I will leave things in my online “cart” for weeks before finally hitting “order” and I will wait until it MUST be done to do it- so picking a baby name for me is completely daunting. I think I care too much what people think. Scratch that, I know I care too much what people think.  So, I wouldn’t come up with a perfect middle name for our little Carly until the day of her birth. Because that’s just how I roll.

The months went on, and pretty soon I was 7 months pregnant. Chris would go missing for days at a time, from his own home, and then come home crying and red faced and apologizing again. We would have epic fights, we would break up, get back together, teenage drama as per usual. I don’t think we realized what big life decisions lay ahead, and so soon. Of course we didn’t, we were living in the now, for today only. We were inexperienced, in love, dumb, selfish, spoiled children ourselves.

I was still going to my mother’s every few days for my senior year homeschooling class, and I was learning a lot. I loved getting to visit my mom, although I was missing my dad. He was usually not there because he had taken a job where he was out of town a lot, traveling for work doing different construction type jobs. One night, my mother told me she and dad had talked, and they agreed they would like to invite me back home, and they thought it would be a better environment for myself and the baby. I couldn’t agree more, but my pride wouldn’t let me come home to them.

I went back to the Lacy’s that night thinking, ‘At least I have an out… wait, why do I need an out? If life is so bad that I need an out from this mess, I should just leave. But I can’t. They couldn’t handle my situation, and the Lacy’s took me in. I’ve got to make this work.’ I was pretty torn between wanting my mother close to me as the birth of my child neared, and being with the father of my child, as dysfunctional as our relationship was. As it turns out, Chris would make that decision easy for me.

A few things happened over the next few months. One night we were playing video games and Chris walked over to the closet. I didn’t pay much attention to him, but I paused the video to wait on him. I looked into the reflection in the glass of the entertainment center and noticed Chris was standing in a chair. I stood up and went around the door to see him tying a noose, about to hang himself I screamed and made him get down. This was not his first suicide attempt. When we lost Hailey, a few months after, he called me one day and told me he had just taken a bunch of pills, and that he loved me, but he couldn’t handle the pain anymore. So I knew he had issues with his mental health. But he had been acting more and more strange lately. He was more volatile, he didn’t act as loving, wasn’t as sweet, didn’t care about hurting the baby or me, just wanted to have sex, and he seemed more depressed than ever. He tried one other time that I know of to commit suicide during my pregnancy. I walked in on him again, with a shotgun held in front of himself. Again, I stopped him. At the time I thought he was trying to get attention. I had always been told that if you wanted to kill yourself, you just would. I didn’t know that these were signs of more serious drug abuse, signs of methamphetamine use. A call for help, depression, anger, needing sex constantly, not caring about your partner. The signs got more obvious as time went on, but I still wouldn’t figure it out until much later.

One night, I was enjoying the fall air, it must have been November, and as anyone from Alabama knows, November in our neck of the woods can be pretty warm. It was probably 60 degrees or so, I was barefoot and pregnant, walking around the beautiful farm land. Their house is beautiful, with a wrap-around porch, mint green paint on the wood trim, and big dormers where the attic is. I love that house.  I was sitting on the dock, dreaming of what my next baby girl would look like. Would she look like Hailey? Would she be different? Would she be healthy?  Would I love her and know her as well as I felt I had known Hailey? I rubbed my tummy and looked out over the pond, feeding the fish and watching them rise to the surface, as the sun set over the landscape. I was sure of one thing, I was definitely ready to meet her and be her mommy. She would be my comfort, no matter what mistakes I had made or what I did or didn’t accomplish, I was going to do all I could to make life amazing for her. We would travel together, paint our nails together, do everything. She’d be my everything. I couldn’t wait.

I walked back inside after seeing Chris come back to the house on his four wheeler. He walked in the house without waiting for me, and I waddled in behind him. Chris’s parents had made us have “separate” rooms when I moved in. Chris took the back room that used to be the office, and I had taken Chris’s old room. It didn’t make any difference, we slept together every night, playing house like real adults. Chris had gone to his room and shut the door. All my things were in my room, my stereo (yes, the big black boombox everyone had in year 2000), my clothes, TV, etc. I first noticed that my television was missing, but thought maybe someone had just moved it (I had a LOT of stuff in there, and it was a bit chaotic). But I found it odd when I walked into my room on this day and my stereo was covered in some sort of liquid. I had no idea what it was, but I could tell by the smell that it was probably fried. When I got closer, the smell … smelled…. like pee. Seriously? Of course I knew it had to have been Chris, with his actions becoming stranger and more ridiculous.

I immediately confronted Chris about the stereo and about some of the things that had gone missing out of my room, like my television. Anything of value was gone, as I had noticed when I started taking closer inspection of my belongings. He became angry, screaming at me and cussing at me, trying to accuse me of selling the things myself and then trying to turn it on him (nonsense) and other crazy things. I then accused him of stealing to feed his drug habit, which at this point I only thought was marijuana. At this suggestion, he became more enraged than I had ever seen him. I had a twirling baton in my room, I used to love to twirl, and even though I didn’t make the team I still liked to play around on it. Chris picked up the baton and hurled it at me, missing my head by mere inches. He then rushed over to me, in my face, and grabbed me by my arms with both hands, and shaking me, screamed “I am NOT on drugs! Do you understand me?” At this point I was terrified that he was going to hit me, or worse, hurt the baby. I pulled myself from his grip and ran into the hall bathroom and locked the door. Before I ran out, I saw that he had immediate regret on his face, as if he didn’t know what he’d been doing until after he’d already done it. I still remember his face. He seemed shocked that he had done it too.His parents were there in the living room watching TV, and had not heard what happened. They did however see me crying and running at seven months pregnant to the bathroom.

Chris’s father Buddy came to the door, and gently knocked, and asked me if everything was okay. I’m sure he thought something might be wrong with the baby. He is a large man, foreboding to many, but so kind and gentle, and he has always loved me and lets me know every time I see him that I am his daughter, and I had better not forget that. We formed a very special bond. Since there were no bedtimes, and I had prenatal insomnia, he and I would stay up all night sometimes, watching old movies, and he’d tell me stories of his childhood, and just stories of anything really. I appreciated the wisdom and he appreciated someone listening. We got very close. I miss that even now.

I told Buddy to just leave me alone. I didn’t know what to do or say, I had never been treated this way in my life. This, for me, was rock bottom. Here I was, barefoot and pregnant, no job, no family, no friends, and my boyfriend was on drugs, stealing from me and now abusing me. I felt like trailer park trash. I felt about as small as anyone can feel. Buddy persisted, and demanded I tell him what had happened. I told him his son just hurt me, and that’s when Buddy lost it.

I stayed in the bathroom, until I heard Chris’s mom Ruby screaming for Buddy to stop. I opened up the bathroom, and Buddy had Chris in a choke-hold. He was strangling Chris. I came in and didn’t know what to do, so I just stood there, watching this happening. Chris couldn’t breathe, he was purple, and I became hysterical. Buddy came to his senses, and released his grip. He told Chris if he ever did that to me again, he’d kill him. I told Buddy not to worry, there wasn’t going to be a next time. That night, I packed up what I could, and I had my mother come pick me up. I was going home.

My Story, Part 4-Accidents Happen

I was pregnant again. I had just lost my first child, and I was pregnant. Again. Good grief, did we not know what caused this? (I still get that a lot.) Well, yes, we did know what caused that. But, for some reason, our counter measures didn’t seem to do any good. Perhaps I skipped a day of the pill, or perhaps I was on medication that eradicated the birth control effects of the pill. For whatever reason, I was pregnant for the second time as a teenager. I found out in April, and I had to of course tell my parents.

Boy was that fun. This time my parents weren’t so forgiving. Again, understandably. I was given some options, and I wasn’t fond of any of them. I instead chose to leave my parents’ home and move in with Chris and his family.

I need to make something a little more clear that I didn’t address in my first few blog posts. Chris’s family are wonderful people. They will give you the shirt off their backs, and they have always been this way.  They do not adhere to societal rules, and when I say “they” I mean his parents. They do not have bedtimes, they smoke in the house (or they did) and they do not monitor the kids’ activities, they are more like free range people. They are country people. And in some ways it’s really nice. There is no stress when you visit. You can take a nap at their house, any time of day, if you are tired, and it’s okay. If you need a place to stay, they will let you stay there. If you are hungry, they will feed you, and make you a few plates to go. If you need clothes, they will clothe you. In many ways, they are much like Christ would want all of us to be. I think somewhere along the way the line between having rules and loving people got blurred for them, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. When you are too nice, sometimes people will take advantage of your kindness. I believe Chris was and is one of those people that takes advantage of people’s kindness. I will never be that person to them. I will never use their kindness for my own benefit. I do love them as a second set of parents to me. They gave me a home when my own parents could not deal with what I had done, and I am forever grateful to them for being there for me. No matter their own mistakes, they have never done anything but love me and my children. Some of their extended family read these posts. I am still in regular contact with many of the extended family, and the ones I am in contact with are amazing, wonderful, caring, Christian folks. I consider them to be my family. Some of them consider me more family than they do Chris. I suppose I needed to clarify this because I didn’t paint this family in a great light early on, making it seem as though they didn’t care about their son, or me. But they did and still do greatly. They love me. And I love them. They made mistakes, just like I did, just like we all do. As we will discuss later, “mistakes” are much different than an “intentional infliction of pain”.

I moved in with Chris and his parents in May. I remember because school was out. I would have been a senior the next year. I quit high school, and my mother, who did her best to keep me as grounded as possible, even at a distance, offered to give me home school classes so that I could still graduate with a diploma. That one year of home school I think I learned more than all my years of public school. It made me realize why home schooled kids are so much smarter than public schooled ones, on average.

Chris’s dad bought us a car. A red Pontiac Sunfire. It was a stick- and I had no idea how to drive one, so Chris drove us around most of the time. One day, Chris’s mother had to be taken to Birmingham for some tests at the hospital, so he offered to drive her because she didn’t like driving long distances or at night. I went along for the ride, partly because I was stuck to the boy like glue, but partly just to get out of the house. In Birmingham, the roads can be confusing. One way streets, lights that look like two way turns are really just one way turns… etc. It makes sense to be more cautious in places like this because of the added confusion. And let’s just say, Chris wasn’t a good driver. Still isn’t. Never has been. We had already been in one wreck together when we were 16. That one wasn’t exactly his fault- a lady pulled out from a stop sign before she looked, and then stopped in the middle of the street when she saw us. But it could have been avoided. Instead of slowing to a stop or taking the road to the right (we were on a small back road) he kept going about 60 mph (way too fast) veered off the road and ran us into a telephone pole. One of those things. It would be the first of several wrecks and accidents for Chris. But, back to the Birmingham trip, Chris thought that a one way left turn lane was a two lane left turn lane. And he slammed right into the side of a pick-up truck. We had the car taken to the shop, no major damage, but it took about a month to repair it- so now, no car to drive.

At this point, I had been living with Chris for a little over a month, and was around 4 months pregnant. The families’ annual trip to the Illinois Tractor Show was upon us. It had been a month since our car was taken for repairs, and we got it back just about a day before the big trip. Our car would be the third out of three cars on our journey north. We had packed all up, gotten our newly refurbished car ready to go, and set out on our adventure. Boy, what an adventure awaited us. I was excited, I had never been up north before. Some of the little nieces and nephews wanted to ride with us but their parents (wisely) decided to make them stay in the car with them for the first half of the trip. They joked that once they’d had enough of the kids that we could have them. Everyone was excited as we took off.

Once we made it to the Tennessee state line, it started to rain. Really hard. In our little Sunfire, it was hard to keep up with the larger vehicles in front of us that were doing 85+ mph. We didn’t know where we were going and didn’t want to lose the family, so we kept pace with them. I told Chris to turn the radio off and pay attention to the road. I almost laid down in the back seat, but decided against it because I wanted to keep an eye on the road too, and just lowered my seat back to try to relax. No sooner had I decided to recline when all of a sudden, we started to hydroplane out of control. We started spinning and spinning, there was no time to think. I think we spun about three or four times, and ended up with the tail end of our car facing oncoming traffic in the Southbound lane of the interstate, which I wasn’t aware of. When we finally stopped, I breathed a sigh of relief, noticing that we were in the median, when Chris yelled, “TRUCK!” and next there was a loud crash. Chris said,”I love you,” as his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he passed out. I was still completely coherent and thought Chris had died. I was sitting there in the silence, wondering if my baby was okay, if Chris was alive, what just actually happened? I had no idea what kind of truck just hit us, I thought it was a little Ford or something, because the impact had not jarred me all that much. I never even turned around, my neck hurt, and I had hit my chin on the dash, giving me an abrasion. I hoped the other driver was okay. The family made their way back to us. They are all volunteer firefighters, so they were calm and very helpful. The ambulances arrived, and they put us both on stretchers. I still remember the rain in my face, and asking someone to please put something over my face so I didn’t have rain in my nose and eyes. They finally propped us up together in the ambulance. Chris came to, and we held hands on the way to the hospital. All I could think about was my precious cargo, and not losing another child. I cried the entire way.

We were checked out and cleared at the hospital, we were both miraculously fine. Baby #2 was fine. Amazing. Once things settled down, Chris retold the story as though he were a hero. It was exciting, now that we knew we were okay. The adrenaline of the situation finally began to sink in. I had not realized the truck that hit us was an 18-wheeler. I didn’t know our gas tanks hit each other, and that there was an explosion and everyone thought we had been blown to smithereens. I didn’t even realize that the back half of our car had been ripped off, until we saw the picture of it on the front page of the Tennessee Times the next day. Thank you Jesus. We opted to go home, while the rest of the family went on to the event up north. I just wanted to curl up under some covers and be safe.

My Story, Part 3

It had been a few days since I had Hailey, and my mother planned her funeral. I don’t remember anything about those few days honestly, except that I slept a lot, and cried even more. When I woke up the morning of her funeral, my head was pounding. What was even more strange was that when I laid down, since I thought this was a stress headache or a headache that you get when you cry too much, the pain went away immediately. If I sat up, intense, searing pain. Like my brain was being literally stabbed. Lay down, nothing. Very strange, but I pushed it aside because today was too important to let a headache get in my way.

When we arrived at the funeral home, everyone, and I mean everyone, was there. Family I hadn’t seen in years, so many friends from school, their parents, people from church, everyone. I was seated in a chair in a little room off to the side of the viewing room, and people filed in to shake my hand, give me a hug, and offer their condolences. I don’t remember much of that either. The pain from the brain-stabbing was back, only much more intense. I was crying from the pain. I was grieving my daughter, but at this point the pain was more the culprit than I’d like to admit. I couldn’t think about anything, not my anguish, or the people surrounding me, nothing but pain. I really wish I could remember all the amazing people that showed up to be there for me. Before her funeral could even begin, I had to beg my dad to take me to the ER. I couldn’t take it anymore. I missed my beautiful daughter’s funeral.

Once I arrived at the ER, it was hurry up and wait. Chris and my father came with me- that’s who I remember, others may have been there or come later, but I remember my two guys there with me the most. Chris held me while I writhed in pain, now even when I tried to lay down the pain was immense. I wanted to bang my head against the wall. I wanted to yell at the nurses to hurry the HELL up because I was missing my daughter’s funeral. But I couldn’t even speak, except to moan. Finally the doctor took me back, and finally my diagnosis: apparently the anesthetist, when pulling out the fluid and medicine from my spine, had pulled too much, and what I was told was that I had no fluid to hold my brain up above my spine, and this of course, was causing intense pain. When I have told friends this story before, there is a name for it, and apparently it’s more common than one would like to think. It hurts as much as it sounds like it would. They had to again, bend me over and put another big needle in my back. Once they did that, I had almost immediate relief.

It was too late for me to say goodbye to Hailey. I had to go home and rest. I never really got to say goodbye. It still hurts me today. Chris’s aunt took some really great pictures of her graveside for me, of all the beautiful flowers people sent, and I mean to tell you they were gorgeous. Someone gave a teddy bear bouquet, and someone even sent a little horsey bouquet. I still have all the cards and notes from the flowers that everyone gave us that day, in Hailey’s box, along with her pictures. My mother’s church, Decatur Baptist, donated Bibles in honor of Hailey, that would be distributed around the country in hotels. Her name is in those bibles, In Memory of Hailey Elisabeth Lacy. That was so wonderful. I always check the Bibles in hotels now to see if maybe one day I’ll see her name. So many amazing people showed up for us that day. Thank you, if you were there. Thank you to the ends of the earth.

We had New Years Eve to celebrate next, and Chris was invited, much to my surprise. My dad’s toast was, ” I love you guys, and I’m sorry this happened. But if you ever do this again, I’ll kill you guys.” Now, I need you to understand two things. One, my dad has a really funny and sometimes dark sense of humor, and often he uses it to lighten tense or stressful situations. And two, this was a hard time for everyone in my family. My dad had such high hopes for me, for my life, and this Chris fellow had almost just dashed any hope I had of college, a future, etc, in his mind. Everything his daughter had just gone through was due to our teenage stupidity. He was right, of course. But sometimes things just happen because they happen. Being a parent now I can fully understand his anger and his sorrow, and what he was going through. Both my parents were brokenhearted, and had every right to be. They had raised me better than this. I was not the girl that gets pregnant in high school, and really no girl should be labeled as the “type”. We are just kids. All my friends were doing the same thing Chris and I were doing, and they were doing it with multiple people- they just didn’t happen to get pregnant. We were completely stupid, as teenagers tend to be. And my dad was trying his best,the best way he knew how to convince us not to do this completely stupid thing again, by putting the fear of God into us, while also trying to be slightly funny. Still, his words proved to be more prophetic than funny.

I went to my post-natal doctor,and they prescribed me birth control, just to make doubly sure that if we continued on like we had before, at least we wouldn’t go through this again.

Things started to get back to normal. I was back in school. Chris and I went to my junior prom together. I wore a yellow two piece dress, and I felt beautiful. We took pictures beside the pond at his families’ home. Hailey’s death had brought us closer together. We had been through some major life ordeals together at 16 and 17 years old. We still slept together. But this time it was less scary, I was on birth control, right?

Four months after Hailey’s funeral, I was pregnant again. Sometimes things just happen because they happen.

Weekends Off

After having thought about it for some time, I will probably take weekends off from writing for the most part. So, part 3 of my story will probably come on Monday October 24th. Have a great weekend y’all!

 

Lori

My Story, Part 2

As promised here is Part 2:

As I sat in that waiting room, wondering what fate was waiting for my sweet Hailey on the other side of that ultrasound room wall, all I could think of was, “Is it my fault? Did I do something? Maybe I did something to her… I am so ready to be her mommy, this isn’t happening, it can’t be happening.” I just stared at the plants across from me, thinking this room was too calm for the thoughts that were spinning in my head.

My mother’s friend from church worked at this OB-GYN. She was a large chested and very joyful woman, she made me smile every time I saw her. She waved at me as I came in for my appointment, not realizing what was going on. Her name was Miss DeeDee. She was so kind to me, ever since I came to that office. Most people were not very kind to me later in my pregnancy, and her grace and mercy filled me up with warmness.

As I was called in by the ultrasound technician, dread filled my entire body. The technician looked at me how most people these days looked at me, with judgement and with little care. Almost as if this were a bother to her. She had me lay on the table, and started the ultrasound, without the doctor or anyone else in the room with me. Then, the most horrible words I had ever heard, “Yep. It’s dead, see the head hanging right there?”

Now I don’t know if she thought I was a teenage mom who didn’t want her baby, or if she really was the meanest bitch on the face of the planet, but at that moment I didn’t care. I must have screamed something horrible at her, because sweet Miss DeeDee came running into the dark ultrasound room and buried my face in her large heaving bosom. I screamed and cried, and screamed some more. I was so thankful that DeeDee was there for me at that moment. She hushed me like I was a baby myself, rocking me back and forth, whispering things like “It’s okay, baby, everything’s going to be okay. I know it hurts, you just cry, baby.” I’m crying now thinking about her. They placed me in a room by myself at this point. Again, I was alone for a few minutes with my thoughts. I started to feel numb. I kept thinking ‘maybe they can save her….maybe if I say I’ll give her up for adoption that will save her…’ but then I’d snap back to reality, and it kept sinking further and further in that life was about to get really hard. Chris arrived first, and he was crying and puffy faced as I told him the news. I remember him saying,”I was so ready to be a dad.” We consoled each other, never left each others’ side.

Then, I don’t remember much, except that the doctor told me they would need to induce labor, and I would need to have Hailey immediately. I would have to give birth to my sweet girl, but not get to bring her home with me. I remember next being in the hospital bed, them hooking me up to IVs and monitors, and them inducing my labor. They didn’t think it would take very long because Hailey was very small. This would prove to be false as well.

The anesthetist came in to give me an epidural because the contractions were starting to really hurt. I could only have ice chips, and I had been in labor for a few hours already. Let me tell you, the worst part about labor, to me, is the shot they put in your back. He had me lay on my side, and he told me to be very still. It’s very hard to sit still, especially knowing you’re about to have a huge needle plunged into your spine. He was going to count to three, and then do it, he said. “One…”, and the needle went in.  This anesthetist didn’t have what I’d call a bedside manner. In fact, he didn’t like me, again, like a lot of other people didn’t like me because of my “situation”. I am not saying this because he stuck me with a horse-sized needle, which was bad enough. For one, my mother overheard him in the hallway speaking about me with disgust. I don’t know what he said, nor do I really want to, but I can imagine his words sounding like a pit of vipers as he spoke. My mother caught him, and he apparently was very embarrassed. She scolded him, all 4’9″ of her, as she told him she didn’t care how he felt about the situation, just treat her daughter with respect and don’t hurt her. It was a little too late as he had already inflicted more damage than any of us knew.

At first, the epidural came as a welcome relief to the pain of the contractions. It felt strange to be paralyzed from the waist down, but nice not to hurt, at least physically. And again, something abnormal began happening, as if any of this as normal. I started having trouble swallowing, which is normally an involuntary action the body performs every few seconds to keep your throat from drying out. We all know how to swallow. Except, I was losing the ability to do this normal thing. I was sucking air and all of a sudden it hit me, I was numb from the neck down. I couldn’t feel anything. It is a horrifying experience to be so defenseless. They immediately called the anesthetist back into my room and he turned me back over. He had put too much medication into my spine and it was numbing my entire body. He had to draw some of the meds (and along with it, my spinal fluid) out of my spine to ease the numbing effect. I was numb for what seemed like hours, but then finally, at last, I could eat my ice chips and swallow again.

Family, mine and Chris’s, church members, friends and even people I didn’t know swarmed our hospital room, giving us prayers and comforting hugs. As people began to pray over me, I began to feel a peace which I had been longing for, and begging God for. He gave it to me. I realized at that moment that for whatever reason, this had happened, and there was nothing I could do about it. I decided to be at peace with it. It hurt so badly, and it still hurts today, but God washed over me with warmth and I was going to be okay. I felt safe. This feeling would come and go in waves over the next few weeks. Healing after loss is just so very difficult.

I was in labor for around 2 days. 2 days without food, only ice chips. 2 days of knowing I would not get to hold my sweet girl and take her home. 2 very long days. At one point I remember my mother begging the doctor to please just give me a C-section so we could be done with this. He declined, and told us that it really would be best if I could have her naturally, so that I wouldn’t have the added surgery recovery time once she was born. And once it was explained it that way, he really was right. He said he knew I was in pain, but if after this day I didn’t have her, they would then go in and perform the C-section. Finally, my body decided it had had enough of this, and fully dilated, it was time to push. The epidural had mostly worn off since the last time it had been given, and I could feel everything. I kind of wanted to, to be be able to retrieve some of the pain my daughter had probably gone through, pain that I didn’t even know was happening to her. While I thought she was kicking in happiness, she was probably hurting. She suffered alone, and I wanted to take some of that from her, in some strange way.

My poor sweet Hailey Elisabeth Lacy was born on December 28th, and she was only 3 pounds and 1 ounce. She was beautiful. The most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my short life. She had so much black hair, her lips were her father’s, and her long graceful fingers were perfect. She should have been bigger, and once they saw the cord they understood why. My little girl definitely was a gymnast, but she had done so much flipping that a knot had been tied in her umbilical cord, and it had also wrapped around her neck a few times. She was not able to get the nutrients she needed to survive at her size, and finally she succumbed to starvation, and possibly being suffocated from the cord around her neck as well. It was too difficult to tell the actual cause of death without an autopsy, which we declined. I held my little girl for hours. I took pictures with her. I kissed her head. I held her hands. I miss her so much.

Now it was time to plan my baby girl’s funeral.Read Part 3 Tomorrow