Today I've got a treat for you guys - a guest post on Annulment!
I sent out a request to those who've experienced annulment firsthand to share their stories; this is the first one in.  
 
Allow me to introduce you to Candace.  She runs Popes and Pirates blog on Blogspot.  Curious about her blog name?  I was, too, until I found out why her aptly named slice of the internet had a pretty amusing story behind it.  Click here to satiate your curiosity!  She also writes about parenting, her miscarriage experience and going (and staying!) green.  

Candace was kind enough to share her annulment story with you fine folks.  Please feel free to leave questions in the combox (you may stay anonymous!).  I ask that you leave questions there so other readers can benefit from Candace's responses.  I've had several readers write in to ask about annulments, but since I don't have direct experience, I was hoping others who did would share!  Thanks, Candace!

Without further ado: 

My husband and I recently celebrated the one year anniversary of the convalidation of our marriage on October 27th. Convalidation is the official recognition of our civil marriage by the Catholic church, elevating our marriage to a sacrament. Originally, we were married civilly in a small ceremony in October 2008. We have been blessed with a son and are currently expecting our second child. Marriage means so much more to me now than the first time I said "I do." I now know that marriage is a gift from God, and not to be entered in to lightly.

Most of my friends and family know that I was "married before." My ex husband and I dated for five years before we married. We lived together beforehand, and although we were both cradle Catholics, neither one of us lived a very religious life. We had a Catholic wedding ceremony, attended the required Pre-Cana training months before, and then continued on with life as we normally had. Nothing we learned or experienced changed our thoughts or feelings about the values our lives should hold important,  or what marriage meant.

We civilly divorced less than two years after our wedding day. We chose to do this as amicably as possible. We had no children and didn't share any bank accounts or property, so the physical separation was easier than many couples experience.  I didn't begin the Catholic process of annulment until two years after that, when technically, I was already civilly remarried to my husband.

The process of civil divorce is quite different than the process of annulment in the Catholic church. Depending on the state you live in, civil divorce is mostly about filing the correct paperwork and paying the required fees. Divorce doesn't actually exist in the Catholic church. Annulment means that your marriage never truly happened.  It was missing one or more of the required pieces to make it binding in the first place.

Many people believe that if you offer the church enough money, you can get an annulment no matter what. This is simply false. I paid nothing to the Church in the process of my annulment. Others offer large donations, but there is no guarantee what the results will be. You have to wait and hope throughout the process.

And process it is. You are required to meet with a priest who is part of a marriage tribunal and verbally recount your story.  You also do this in writing. Your ex spouse is also encouraged to participate. Other friends and family on both sides are asked for their testimony.  It can take years. Mine took two years from start to finish. Every piece to this process is inspected closely to come up with a final determination. There is a back and forth with the responses to each inquiry.

It is a challenge to wait, especially if you have already moved forward with another relationship in your life. I also couldn't receive communion during this time which made me feel like I was missing out on the grace that might help me get through this ordeal. But, I feel it was totally worth it. There were many times I simply wanted to give up and tried to convince myself it didn't matter. But, deep down I knew it did. You are forced to make peace with your past and this is a blessing in itself. My husband and I celebrated when my annulment was granted, and then began the next phase of having our marriage recognized.

To all those contemplating starting this process,  or who are already in it, stay the course.  No matter the result you may find consolation and healing. Pray often and ask Mary for help and courage to make it through. I will be praying for you as well.

In the morning, I drop Vince off at school.  I sign him in at 8 AM.  John picks him up between 3-5 PM depending on the day and signs him out.  

We've begun leaving one another notes in the sign section.  Instead of leaving our initials (like we're supposed to), we've taken to leaving each other tiny phrases:

It makes me laugh because no one ever checks this thing, so these tiny scribbles are like secret notes passed back and forth between class.  

This particular morning, he'd been feeling rough on account of his wisdom teeth being removed the day before. I knew seeing "Feel better" would give him a smile when he picked up Vince, but imagine my surprise when I saw "Thanks beautiful" in the box to greet me the next morning.  Such a small, tiny gesture, but those are the gems that make me happiest.  

He and I might not see eye-to-eye on religion, but we do love one another deeply, take our responsibility as parents seriously, and are committed to one another and our family.  

I truly believe John and I were made for one another.  We met young, fell in love young, and married young.  I believe this was by design, and I am grateful for the spouse I've been blessed with.  He is a good man, a good father, and a loyal friend.  While I know the religion issue is a tough one, I hope you don't use that as the only stick to measure him by.  

If tomorrow he decided to teach Vincent all about Atheism and telling him that Stephen Hawking agrees that there's no need for God when science explains everything, I'd be incredibly upset.  He feels the same way about Catholicism.  Because he views it as something akin to a fairytale, he sees it as a crutch... something fine for children to believe but necessary to outgrow (like Santa Claus).  Adults can't rely on God for things.  Adults shouldn't need direction in things from a book predating most civilization.  Adults also shouldn't base social lifestyle choices on religious rationale. 

I understand his mindset; I do.  However, I simply don't share that viewpoint and, though he doesn't understand my point of view, he vowed to support me, so he does it as best he can.  I must recognize the difficulty he faces as well when he watches me teach our son what he views to be fantasy and unnecessary superstition.  At the same time, he recognizes his promise to allow me to raise our children Catholic.  

Believe it or not, this is what love looks like.  Love isn't always the romantic, happily-ever-after fodder you see in the movies.  In reality, love is dirty, sweaty and yes, even tearful at times.  It is also beautiful, and the appreciation we have for one another... the trust we've developed precisely because of our struggles... the knowledge that we've survived the dreaded "D-word" and come out stronger... this is love, because love endures.

These words were chosen by me for our wedding Mass. I recently read them, myself, at the marriage of two other friends.  These words of Saint Paul are so crystal clear to me whereas before, I'd only understood them in a sterilized, Disney-shaded sense.  

The day I married John, I heard these words as "Be nice to one another because that's what lovers do.  They aren't rude or arrogant, they don't hold grudges and they don't act selfishly. The lovey-dovey feelings you have today will carry you through everything because love never fails."

Oh, Gina... Saint Paul was no Nora Roberts.  How naive of me to fancy him one!  When I read those words now, I hear something so much richer... so much deeper.  Saint Paul might not be Nora Roberts, but if the above snippet doesn't embody the truth of love, there is no such thing as truth and no such thing as love.

I must've written and rewritten this entry a dozen times.  I've come to the realization that there's simply no neat and tidy way of being fully honest, especially given the circumstances. Thus, I apologize for the mess you're all about to find yourselves in.

A lovely woman named Anne is a Catholic woman who is dating an Agnostic man.  She believes they are a perfect match in all things but religion.  He was born and raised Catholic but now views Catholicism as something akin to a fairytale while she obviously has deep reverence for her Catholic heritage.

She asked us for our advice on what to do given she's looking to marry this man.

I've been wrestling around a lot with this one.  She commented her plight at the end of August to my "I Married an Agnostic" post from 2011, and I'm half afraid she thinks I've forgotten all about her!

Anne, I promise that I haven't.  I just didn't know how to write this without upsetting you.  My advice, I fear, is not what you're hoping for.  

My advice, in fact, is to get out now.  

I realize you might be surprised to hear that from me, but I've walked in your shoes.  For miles. I'm STILL walking in them which is precisely why I'm telling you that unless you know for certain you are being called to convert this man through a lifetime of marriage (which, itself, carries the reality of conversion not happening and your struggle having an adverse effect on future children), cut your losses, give your heart a healthy time to heal, and ask God to put the right man in your midst.  

You might be wondering how I could say such a thing when my own marriage hasn't fallen apart and my son is a (mostly) willing participant in the Faith.  

This was not without toil, tears, a very real threat of divorce, and an intense overhaul of my entire relationship with John.  That's not even counting the amount of prayers and work that still go into it.

Am I saying I wish I hadn't married John?  Of course not.  I got two children out of the deal and undoubtedly grew closer to Christ.  However, I was significantly less spiritually mature than you currently are when I answered the call to marriage.  

You fully understand the importance of your faith and the necessity of a father to be a spiritual leader for his family.  I didn't understand that; worse, I didn't even think such a thing was necessary! As a result of my ignorance, my family started out with a distinct disadvantage.  We were not a cohesive unit in what would become a very large and important part of our lives. That friction reached its tentacles into everything, especially as I matured in my faith and realized the depth of my ignorance.  

John's refusal to accept my religious beliefs as valid directly - DIRECTLY - correlates to his refusal to be open to more children.  

So Anne, if you plan to have children, be prepared for a similar fate.  It is an excruciating, 
at-times-unbearable, cross to shoulder.

Readers who have been following me for a while might be incredibly unsettled by this.  

When I first learned that this was the driving reason behind my husband's reluctance to have more children, words couldn't possibly express the emotions that coursed through me.  In fact, it's been over a year since I learned that this was my reality and this is the first time I've voiced it beyond my two closest friends.  

It's also the prime reason why responding to you, Anne, has been so challenging.  I couldn't be honest with you without being honest about the depth of my own struggle.  This is a tragic, brutal and incredibly bigoted reality, and it's a reality I want so much to protect you from.  I wouldn't wish this sort of sacrifice on anyone.

It's a sacrifice that I willingly make, yes, but it's a willing sacrifice only because I've already made my vows.  You have not.  Please understand that this is what you'd be saying "I do" to... not just for yourself, but for your future children.

And before you think to yourself that your boyfriend would never do such a thing, again, I've walked in your shoes.  My husband said he accepted my Catholicism.  

Seeing Vincent's participation alongside me must've shifted that for him, because Catholicism was no longer some harmless fairy tale.  To John, it became a bitter irritant.  Prayers at bedtime are nails on chalkboard.  Sunday Mass can solicit anything from an eye-roll to not-so-secret vindication when Vince cries that he doesn't want to go.  

Catholicism has become such a hated thing to my husband that he does not want to see it replicated in his children.  Because he cannot love that part of me, he cannot love that part of our children.  Thus, the only way to stave off such irritation is to stop having children.  To poison one is enough... to poison more than one is unthinkable to him.  

And that is his mindset.  Through tears, I demanded to know how he could hold such a bigoted notion in his head.  He is not what I'd consider a bigot.  He's otherwise incredibly tolerant and accepting.  In fact, should any of his friends read this, they'd probably think I was somehow mistaken - that I'd misunderstood his motivation.

I assure you I have not.  I had him spell it out for me.  That was one of the most painful and damaging conversations I've ever had with anyone in my entire life.  It still stings when I think of it.  

I couldn't understand.  I still don't to a certain degree.  I asked him what part of Catholicism bothered him so much that he couldn't stand to see it played out in me... in Vincent.  He couldn't answer me.  He noted prayers at bedtime or his little sayings of "Jesus loves me" irritated him, but our son is wonderful.  Him being baptized Catholic has not somehow made him less wonderful, but for John, it was enough to make him resent and yes, even hate, Catholicism. Hate it to the point where he willingly allows me to suffer an enforced infertility so as not to bring forth any other children who would suffer the fate of *gasp* Baptism and a Catholic education.

It is not fear of finance... fear of time constraints... fear of love or capability that has condemned me to this cross of infertility.  It is my husband's hatred of Catholicism.  

He shared this in a moment of deep and unfiltered honesty just over one year ago.  I appreciated his honesty, because it showed a level of trust that we'd never come close to understanding.  However, I've lived with this knowledge, completely unsure how to proceed. When I thought his decision was based on finances and such, the cross was easier to bear.  At least his rationale made sense. This, however, was almost insurmountable.  It is still a daily struggle.  

It is a struggle I want to preserve you from, Anne.  It's a struggle I want to preserve your future children from.  

My husband and I have since discussed things.  We both agree that had we known then what we know now about the importance of faith to one another, we likely would not have gotten married. I had, after all, broken off the engagement at one point when he tried to get me to agree not to baptize our future children.  We should've known then that faith was more important than we were giving it credit for.  

But we didn't, and we publicly vowed to love one another every day for the rest of our lives. Love doesn't begin and end with tummy butterflies.  It is an active choice to respect, honor, protect, nurture and support your spouse - every day.  

So that is how I find myself in this situation.  I love my husband, Anne.  I love him, respect him, support him, and do my best to nurture him in ways that will ultimately make him a better person.  He obviously tries his best to do the same for me.  However, I'd be remiss if I didn't warn you of the heartache that comes with this sort of union.

Take my story to heart.  For as much as you love your boyfriend (and I have no doubt you do), you will also love those children you create, and you need to be thinking of them.  The best decision you can ever make for them is who their father will be.  

In all things, you have my prayers.  Other readers, please feel free to chime in with your advice for Anne.  

<3

I was at a wedding this past weekend for my cousin.  It was a nice little ceremony with a splendid reception. 

However, I have to admit that during the ceremony, I wasn't quite sure when the rite of marriage actually took place.  
In a Catholic ceremony, it's cut and dried.  You know precisely when you've completed your vows and are husband and wife.  

In my cousin's ceremony, however, I had absolutely no idea when the union actually took place.  There were two sets of vows, there was a sand ceremony that "symbolically united" them (similar to unity candles), and there were two blessings offered.  There was also the ring-exchange.  My niece kept asking me "Are they married yet?  Are they gonna kiss now?" and I had no idea what to tell her because I didn't know, myself!

Granted, that's not a huge deal in the scheme of things.  It was a nice ceremony - much nicer than some others I've attended - but it made me appreciate my own Catholic ceremony so much more.  

I knew precisely when our Sacrament was taking place.  Though our vows weren't "super unique" or funny, or quirky, or any other number of extravagant things couples try to put forth to show everyone just how special their love for one another is, I now fully appreciate the timeless aspect of our simple (and deeply rich) vows.  After all, these vows have been around for millennia.  They've provided the basis for countless blessed unions.  Our marriage, in effect, became a part of this tapestry.  It's a comfort to know that our vows are the same ones made by the strong family lineages that produced us.  They are like tethers to our ancestry.

Just a musing.  Again, I thought my cousin's ceremony was nice, but it struck me as odd that I wasn't sure when the actual marriage took place given the amount of circumstantial "fluff" that's sole purpose was to give everyone the warm fuzzies.  And I'm cool with warm-fuzzies, but I feel that for a marriage, you should KNOW when the rite is taking place.  It's such an important step in your life (two becoming one and all) that there shouldn't be confusion as to when the moment comes to pass.  

Ah well.  Regardless, prayers of blessing for them, please - they're good people.  :) 

All three of my cats think they're human.  Maybe it's because we've had them since they were itty-bitty kittens found clinging to life in a drain pipe.  Maybe it's because we've spoiled them absolutely rotten.  Maybe it's because they're cats and they simply think they own the place anyway.  Regardless, all three of my cats (Piper, Zoey and Lucy) see no issue with climbing into bed with us, attempting to sit next to us on a dining room chair as we eat as a family, or plant themselves firmly on the couch with us as we watch TV.  

Obviously I love my little furbabies.  I'm a die-hard animal lover who has fostered more than 70 of them since moving to Jersey in 2007.  I've spent sleepless nights nursing them back from the brink of death, I've cried over heartbreaking medical prognoses, and I even carried Zoey around in a sling - directly next to me or sitting on my work desk - for more than a month as her legs healed from a terrible accident. 

That all being said, I still do not place these three cuddle-balls into the same arena as Vincent or Myla.  I love my cats - to the point of stupid - but I don't place human dignity on their shoulders.  

Should a fire break out and I'm forced to save Vince or Lucy, I'm going to save Vince.  When someone asks me how many children I have, I don't list Vince, Myla and then my three cats. 

Yet the Pope's recent message to married couples about having children (and not pets) apparently ruffled more than a few feathers.  Even in the comments of the linked article, people who supposedly "loved" the Pope turned their nose up in disgust at this particular message.  

Go figure.

Given the amount of couples opting for pets vs. children these days, it's no surprise some would walk away from his remarks feeling called out.  

Now, before I continue, no one (I repeat - NO ONE) is calling out infertile couples, couples struggling with serious chromosomal issues, or even couples who are truly not called to be parents (and I do believe there is a very small population of people who are simply not meant to be parents).  

The pope is, however, calling out folks who are seeking to continue a life of self-centered irresponsibility.  

Adults don't make children; children make adults.  This is so incredibly true.  After all, nothing says "responsibility" like taking on the care of someone wholly dependent on you for everything (every moment, of every day).  

This sort of responsibility shapes a person and forces him/her to see the world from another's perspective.  It demands sacrifice.  It demands COMPLETE sacrifice.

In our culture, this level of self-sacrifice is avoided like the Plague.  Having a baby will ruin weekend plans for, like... ever, right?  And who wants to deal with sleepless nights, potty training and vomit in your hair?

Ayyyyy...

I know you guys have seen me write about this a billion times, so I'm going to try really hard not to beat the dead horse, but I'm just so incredibly sick of children being seen as roadblocks to happiness.

They're not.  They are happiness and love personified (in the truest sense of the word).  

No amount of pet-responsibility comes close to that which a human child presents.  I should know.  I've had more than my share of pets, and not one (not even Zoey) compares to a child.  That being said, not one of the 70+ animals that have come through my doors have helped me to grow as a person the way that Vincent has.  Not one has given me fulfillment in the way that Vincent has.  Not one animal has given me joy, happiness and love in the way that Vincent has.  And not one has deepened my relationship with God in the way that Vincent has.  

So no - for all those folks out there who want to run around claiming Fido is your child, just stop.  The only people who think its cute are those who, themselves, are terrified of taking on responsibility for future generations.

As you can see, I talk to my cats (I'll have full-on conversations with them), I love my cats, and I consider them "furbabies" because they have me wrapped around their adorable little paws, but again... they're no substitute for children.  Yet so many couples use them as the "next step" in their marriage... as if keeping a goldfish alive is somehow proving grounds for their ability (and desire) to parent.

It's just... ay.  

It's incredible to me that society has created this sort of mindset regarding children.  I really am baffled by it.  

I know not all people are as desirous of children as I am, but to substitute pets as a realistic replacement???

The pope is right on this.  Married couples who want to solidify their sacramental marriage would do best to allow their love to create a tangible symbol of that love - truly personified - that not only grows and changes with them through the years, but HELPS them grow, change and love more deeply than they ever thought possible.  

After all, that's what marriage is all about.  White dresses, cake, toasts and favors are temporary.  Creating a person (and with that person, a soul) is forever.  That child will FOREVER be a lasting testament to your love.  Forever.  

Fido, Sparky or Chuckles will never be able to claim that.

John and I have been through a lot the last few years.  A whole lot:

• We beat back the Divorce Monster
• I had the breast cancer scare which led to a cervical cancer diagnosis, subsequent treatment, and eventual eradication (hopefully forever).  
• John began his own highly successful sports league while juggling movie production and his regular job.

So these, among other random bits, have caused us to grow, change, and love more deeply.  Looking back at this journey has made me so incredibly appreciative of the marriage I have and the friends and family who have supported us these last ten years.

As a result, I want to throw a special party this year.  It's only our 7th year as a married couple, but it's our 10th together as a couple.  

I want to throw a fire hall banquet, invite all those who have supported us through love, prayer and example and celebrate the blessings they've all been to John and I.  

I want this to serve as both a THANK YOU to our family and friends for being so supportive over the years, and as a "Marriage is Worth It!" witness.

So many of those in our group of friends are incredibly jaded about the institution of marriage.  They are vehemently against marriage on the grounds that it's an archaic, pointless practice that only ends in divorce, they are indifferent, or they look at marriage as something they can't do until they've amassed enough golden eggs (whether that be money, a house, career satisfaction, etc).  Very few of our friends look at marriage as a sacrament of power, love and beauty.  

That makes me sad.  It really does.  

So while I want to thank everyone for their support of us, I also want to show our friends that marriage IS something worth investing in.  And once you are married, it's worth fighting for.  It's a constant choice to love one another, every day.  The honeymoon fades and the cutesy names will sometimes turn sour.  However, with support and love, a married couple can weather the natural dips in romance and find a deeper, truer connection than they started out with.  

When I asked John if he'd be OK with this, he was, but thought the idea of "throwing ourselves a party" was tacky.  He said he'd feel like an idiot explaining to people the purpose of the celebration.

I can understand his hesitation.  I mean, who the heck throws a 7th anniversary party?
To me, though, it's perfect timing.  Usually the 7th year is associated with the "7 Year Itch" in which couples are often teased about the eventuality of affairs stemming from the stagnation of marital relations.  

For us, this 7th year - though incredibly emotional - has been anything but stagnant. John and I love one another better now than we ever have.  

And I say "better" because we both make the conscious decision to be better spouses to each other.  

So I do want to celebrate that, especially given the fact that we have the added bonus of me being cancer-free (assuming the annual test comes back clear which I'm sure it will).  

We've got a lot to be thankful for, and I feel my gratitude overflowing.  As such, I want to use it to thank others and share those blessings we've received with others.  

Is a party a bad idea?  Do you think maybe I should rethink how I go about doing this?  I'm not looking for gifts or anything.  I don't want anything from anyone.  I want to do this FOR everyone.  Our anniversary just happens to provide a perfect backdrop.  

Thoughts?

These are my in-laws.  I love them both.  Ridiculous amounts.  I always have.  I've always respected their love for each other and their family.  I've learned a lot about marriage just from watching them interact. I've learned a lot about John that way, too, let me tell ya.  He's got so many traits that he shares with his Dad that watching his mom interact with her husband has given me a few ideas how to go about interacting with John.  

:)

Anyway, given the incredibly emotional coaster this family has been on the last few weeks, I've been dying to see them and just hug them close.  Natural circumstances prevented this, but when we DID finally see each other, I was so happy to just physically hug them.  However, Dad wasn't too keen on any sort of emotional exchange.  He was probably too drained from grieving Uncle Billy and worrying over his mother's rapidly declining health.  Also, given his status as the leader of the family, he took upon himself the responsibility of shouldering the fear and anxiety of his brothers and sister.  

Oh, how my heart breaks for him.  He always takes on so much responsibility.  But again, it's something I deeply respect him for.  He goes out of his way to make things easier for his family, but at such personal sacrifice.  

However, he doesn't like to let on that his strength wavers, too.  Instead of reaching out, he'll vent in short, off-the-cuff ways.  I want so much to help him, but I can't just say, "Dad, I love you.  Punch the wall and yell at me if it'll make you feel better."

I'd love to, mind you, but I can't.  He'd never let on that he's hurting, and I would never make things worse by letting on that I know.  

But I still want to support him.  So I'm supporting him the best way I know how - through his wife, my mother-in-law.

In the car on the way back from Uncle Billy's funeral, my FIL had to make a tough decision. My MIL said something that I pray will stick with me until my final days.  

My FIL had to decide if he'd go away for a few days on business or if he'd stay behind in case Nanny passed away.  He asked my MIL what she thought, and her response was beautiful.  She basically said she would go wherever he decided because no matter what, she wanted to be with HIM when and if he got news about Nanny.  

It was then that I realized I could support him by supporting her.  She was, is and always will be, his rock.  They are incredibly blessed to have found one another.

She knows her place is with him so that she can support him in any way that she can.  She wants to be there, holding his hand, letting him cry, even letting him get mad at her so he could, in some tiny way, vent the torrent of emotion eating away at his heart.

I actually teared up when she said that.  It was so loving... so perfect... that is what I want my response to be to John always.  Whatever you decide, I will stand by you.  I will be with you because that is where I need to be.  I want you to know that you will always have me to lean on. 

Such love.  Such incredible, faithful love.  

So I made it my personal mission to support him by supporting her.  Since she'll be bearing the weight of the world in conjunction with him, I can lend my assistance to her.  I might not be able to reach my FIL the way I'd like, but I can reach my MIL, and if she's a little less stressed and a little more rested, she can be a better support for him.

I love these two immensely.  I really do.  I wish I could do something to magically wave a wand and make life perfect again, but we all must endure this valley of tears.  Thankfully, God gifted us families so we could walk this valley together and not alone.  

"Turn then, oh Most Gracious Advocate, thine eyes of Mercy towards us, and after this, our Exile, show unto us the Blessed Fruit of thy womb, Jesus."

Please keep them in your prayers.  Nanny, too.  

<3

Last night, John and I were watching the latest episode of HIMYM (again, if you don’t want spoilers, STOP READING THIS).  I’ve always loved the characters of Marshall and Lily.  For those of you who don’t know the show, Marshall and Lily are college sweethearts who consistently exemplify unconditional and sacrificial love.  They really are the perfect example of what marriage should look like, and I love that the writers have always been dedicated to the success of that relationship.  

I’ve always related to Lily’s character.  She is a strong woman with very maternal instincts. She loves her husband deeply, adores children, is brutally honest when necessary, and is fiercely loyal to her friends.  She's even a teacher!  Lily is me with red hair and a much hotter body.  
 
Anyway, in last night’s episode, we come to find out that Lily has been harboring a secret.  I immediately said to John, “She’s pregnant!”

Turns out I was right.  The way the writers allowed the story to unfold was beautiful. Marshall, upon learning he was going to be a Daddy again, rushed to Lily’s side and confronted her with the news.  However, he didn’t confront her angrily.  Instead, he was emotional – 120% caught up in anticipation, hope, joy, and above all, love.  Love for Lily, love for his son, and love for the new life he and Lily had created.

And when Lily said she “just felt like” the baby was a girl, I was instantly a wreck.  I chewed my lip to the point of bleeding trying to keep myself from openly sobbing in front of John, but he saw I was upset and came to sit next to me on the couch to hug me.  He probably thought I was crying over Myla.

In truth, I sorta was, but my tears were lamenting more than miscarriage.

Marshall said something that stabbed my heart.  The exchange came after a very emotional argument Marshall and Lily had regarding moving to Italy vs. staying in the States (pitting Lily’s dreams against Mashall’s dreams).  Marshall selfishly wanted to stay in the States and made the decision without ever asking Lily’s input.  Lily, rightly hurt by this, angrily demanded to know why her dreams weren’t considered as important as Marshall’s. The argument ends with Lily sacrificing her dream of Italy for the sake of the family she loves, and Marshall apologizing for allowing his selfishness to come before his love for her.

However, upon learning that Lily is carrying their 2nd child, Marshall exclaims:

“Lily, we have to [go to Italy]!  You’re gonna live in Rome, and you’re gonna get your dream because you’re giving me mine, again.”
 
Cue tear cascade.

Lily had already given up her dream of Italy to support her husband and their (now growing) family.  That was a very, VERY difficult thing for her and she knew she’d wrestle with that baggage for the rest of her life.  But she did it.  Why?  Because she loves Marshall and their family enough to sacrifice of herself.
 
And in that instance, Marshall realized his erroneous thinking.  The whole season, he was focused solely on how he could convince Lily to make the sacrifice because his dream was, selfishly, what he wanted. 

Until news of the baby.  News of the baby's existence caused Marshall to instantly realize his priorities were skewed.  A judgeship was not his dream.  It’d be a nice goal to reach, but Marshall’s dream was, and always has been, to have a big family, the same as he’d grown up surrounded by.  Family is Marshall’s true dream, and he recognized that Lily had known (and been working towards) this all along.  Lily had always sacrificed for their shared dream of family, while Marshall simply enjoyed the fruits of that sacrifice.  

Realizing this, he took responsibility for sacrificing.  He wanted Lily to have the same opportunity to grasp her dreams because it’s what she’d always done for him.  He loved her and their family to the point of sacrificing the biggest goal he’s ever set for himself: judgeship.  He pushed his fear of leaving New York aside and trusted that his love for his family would be sufficient to weather the journey.

They are like the married couple in O. Henry’s story The Gift of the Magi.  Lily willingly handed over her hair (Italy) and Marshall gave up his watch (the judgeship). Deep, personal sacrifices in both cases that were gift wrapped in love.

And Marshall only understood this lesson after rearranging his priorities into their proper order: Lily first, family second, self third.  What caused the paradigm shift? News of the baby and his overabundance of love and excitement.  

THAT is why my body rocked with sobs.  Marshall’s response was what I’ve always envisioned for myself as a child – my future husband being just as excited and joyous as Marshall at news of a pregnancy… my future husband seeing these children as dreams come true.  I had visions of him jumping up and down in the bathroom with me as two little pink lines surfaced from a plastic stick.

I cried because my husband was so diametrically opposed to Marshall in this.  

There was no moment of joy when he learned of Myla.  There was no realization that his priorities were misaligned.  There was no moment of clarity in which he appreciated the terrible sacrifice I make on a daily basis so his dreams can be sought after.  Instead, there was disgust, fear, annoyance and frustration.  

How that wounds my heart.  

My dream, from my very first memories, revolve solely around a family.  Myla was, in many ways, my final chance at that family.  So when I mourn for Myla, I fully understand that I’m mourning for her and all the other children I’ve been denied.  

And I was angry.  Frustrated.  Jealous.  Desperate.  All because of a television series that showcased the response I long for but will never have.  Not even with Vincent. On both counts, John’s first reaction was fear and annoyance.  Disbelief. 

Never love.  Never joy.

And that is what absolutely kills me.

I felt so unappreciated that I free-fell into an intense depression. My mind wondered if John even loved me at all.  How could someone who loves me simultaneously seem to hate me so much?

Do I think John hates me?  Of course not.  But in that moment, it felt that way. Maybe because I hated myself being in this situation.  I don't know. It's easier for me to turn the upset feelings inward rather than outward.  

Anyway, after the show finished, we watched a 30 minute comedy to lighten the mood.  It worked well enough for John to think things were okay.  I was sour, though.  The self-loathing, anger, jealousy and despair were percolating in my mind the whole time.  So instead of watching another show, I went to bed.  Not that I was going to sleep.  Lord knows I wouldn't be doing much sleeping.  But at least I could shut myself off in the dark.  

John came up after me. He grabbed me close in bed and snuggled there.  He's a snuggler.  I hate snuggling.  Loathe it.  It's okay for all of three seconds before I get annoyed and want my space back.  However, I allowed it because I knew that was his way of trying to make me feel better.  I knew he needed to feel like he was helping.  Maybe that's all he thought he could do.  After all, John responds to touch, so it makes sense why he'd think I would react the same.

Honestly, though, I wanted no parts of myself let alone any parts of him.  
I'm terrible, aren't I?

*Sigh*

Anyway (and really, Mom, if you're reading this, just go ahead and avert your eyes), I realized in that moment that I did need John.  I needed to feel loved, because there was a part of me (the logical side?) that understood he loved me, but my heart was so full of hurt and grief that I couldn't feel it.  I couldn't process that he could love me given the broken and hurting state I was in.

So I kissed John.  I wanted him to kiss me back, to give me some tangible sign that he loved me.  He dutifully kissed me, but laid back on his pillow.  I pulled his face back to mine and whispered, "No.  Make love to me."

I don't normally do that.  I'm not the romantic type who whispers sweet nothings into dusky skies as my hair whips gracefully in a gentle breeze.  But in that moment, I recognized the marital act of making love as the only balm to soothe the aching desolation in my heart.  I needed my husband to love me.  I needed him to physically, emotionally and spiritually LOVE me, and a few pecks on the cheek weren't going to cut it.  Not when I was feeling so incredibly unloved.  

That was the first time I've ever "needed" sex.  I've enjoyed sex, sure.  I've wanted sex, definitely.  But I can't remember a time in which I urgently needed to give the fullness of myself and receive the fullness of my husband in the way that only married love can do.  Sex isn't just some repetitive thrusting based solely on biology.  That we, as a people, have turned it into so base a commodity is a travesty.  Looking at sex as a means to better know and understand the love of my husband... it was eye-opening for me.  

He's a good dad!

It might've taken him some getting used to, but once he caught on to the whole "dad" thing, he went to town.  

He gets up early with Vince, plays dress up, takes him to the park to play basketball, teaches him the ins and outs of various sports, disciplines and soothes like a pro.

He works hard to provide and always, always, always plans for Vincent's future.  

I almost cannot believe a year has passed.  I think it's because I'm in such an entirely different place in my life.  When the bells rang to welcome 2013, it almost seemed they were for me.

At this point last year, my marriage was ravaged.  We were both depressed, incredibly bitter and mostly unhappy with our lives.  Everything from work to friendships to our personal lives seemed to be dead set against us finding any joy.  So to look back and realize how far we've come... what a transformative year 2012 has been... it's mystifying.  It's like I'm looking back on someone else's life.

2012 was the year John and I pulled each other, many times kicking and screaming, into loving one another again.

You see, no one tells you this during marriage prep courses.  No one mentions the all-out war you sometimes need to wage in order to build and maintain a relationship that seems so easy to new couples.  They say marriage is hard work, but they don't tell you that this particular brand of hard work has the ability to take you to your deepest breaking point, smash it into a billion pieces, and then introduce you to the even deeper breaking point you didn't realize your other breaking point lived in fear of.

So 2012 was the year we confronted those breaking points.  It wasn't pretty.  In fact, it was terribly cruel, ugly and painful.  I’m still not entirely sure how we survived such a traumatic reconfiguration of our marriage.  I attribute it to the prayers of those who understood the heartache.  They were the likely source of strength the two of us unwittingly fed from as we endured the agonizing process of cleaning house and facing the truth of our own destruction. 

Most people are unaware that there were tremors unsettling our nest.  I’ve always kept such things very close as I don’t believe there is benefit in airing dirty laundry to family or friends.  I never uttered a word to my family as I didn’t want them to view John in a negative light.  I also didn’t want anyone worrying over my relationship when there were more pressing things to keep them occupied. 

So I turned to my spiritual director and my best friend.  The only two people who knew the full extent of the emotional agony I endured, I held nothing back from them.  I was candid, frank and colored.  I would spit fire one moment only to fall into a river of tears the very next.  I also poured myself into writing.  Venting to my two trusted confidantes and banging out article after article on my keyboard – those were my coping mechanisms.  Some folks might be upset to hear I didn't turn to them with my emotional tidal wave.  May it suffice to say that voicing that wave to one person - let alone the two I chose - was difficult enough.  

I’m still not entirely sure what John did.  He eventually told his family.  It was a huge mistake – and he fully admits that now – but I don’t fault him.  His family dynamic is vastly different from mine, so while I was afforded the distance necessary to keep my personal life adequately private, he was not.  I know he vented to his friends a bit (because it had the direct effect of once close-friends pulling away from me), but again… I understand he needed to cope in his own way. 

We mucked along in this awkward venting dance, but it was a temporary fix (if one can call it a fix at all).  We knew we needed to seek professional help, and John surprised me one day by agreeing to see a counselor.  He even came up with a list of folks he felt would be good.  We found one we liked and began to see him twice a month.  

We only went a handful of times - not because we didn't like him (in fact, he was great) - but because John and I had really committed to trying to work things out ourselves.  All of the advice the doc gave us were things we were already accustomed to doing.  He helped us tweak things a bit so we didn't keep hitting the same walls over and over again, but it felt good that a professional was able to walk us through some of our darker areas and point out that we had, in fact, done a lot more for ourselves and each other than we had taken credit for.

So yeah, having spent over a year battling the demons of our marriage, I look back and almost cannot believe that the same marriage is now back to being happy, satisfying and loving - maybe even moreso than when we were first engaged.  I'm incredulous, really.  

This is the reason I felt the urge to post my experience online.  No one likes to admit their marriage isn't perfect.  No one in their right mind wants to admit that their spouse wanted to divorce them.  I sorta hate the fact that this is going to be out there now with people judging me or John one way or the other for whatever ridiculous things they'll conjure up to judge us on.  

The end result is something important enough to highlight, though.  I see several of my friends (now that they're marrying off) coming to terms with the fact that marriage really does suck sometimes.  For as amazing and wonderful as this vocation is, there are some seriously challenging and downright terrifying aspects of it that make you think you're slightly insane for having ever said "I do" to begin with.

I'm here to tell you that even through the most terrifying and horrible moments, you can and MUST fight for your marriage.

Every time John brought up the "D" word, I'd let it roll right off me.  I never for a second gave divorce a thought because I simply do not believe it exists for us.  When you can show me the seam that binds two souls united at the altar, I'll show you divorce papers.  Until then, the only recourse is war.  

So I went to war.

And I told John I was going to war.  

And all of you out there who love your spouse but feel the pressure to divorce mount against your sacramental union - you must go to war.

And that is how it must be in a marriage.  If your relationship is of any worth - if there is anything of value there (and there must be... you married one another once upon a time after all), you will wage war to defend it... even if you must defend it from yourselves.

That is precisely what John and I did.  I explained to John that I would never - NEVER - sign divorce papers.  He, exasperated, asked me why.  I told him the truth.  For as much as I sometimes wanted to punch him repeatedly in the face, I still loved him.   For as angry and as bitter and as resentful as I sometimes felt towards him, I would always still love him.  I would always be able to see the good-natured humor in him.  I would always respect the responsible and hard-working man he is.  I would always see the light of love in how he raises our son.  Thus, in my mind, divorce can never be an answer.  I was confident that one day we'd look back on this miserable point in our lives and be better for it.  

And ya know what?  He needed to hear that.  I knew it all along, and I assumed he understood it, but no.  He needed to hear that from me.  He needed to hear me lay it all out there - to place myself out in such a vulnerable, honest position.  I think it was then that he realized we had something to fight for after all.  It wasn't just a "Gina's being a stubborn Catholic who doesn't believe in divorce."  It was Gina being a stubborn wife who doesn't believe in throwing away a husband of value.

So night after night, day after day, tearful yelling session after tearful yelling session we somehow reached a fuller understanding of one another and our needs.  We were no longer the same people we were 8 years ago.  We had changed, and we needed to recognize that, appreciate it, and nurture each other in all new ways.  We needed to learn about one another again and in trying - really, truly trying - we little by little learned to love each other again.

And it's been quite the experience.  

So to those of you facing down what seems to be the barrel of a divorce gun I say there is hope.  Be the hope for your marriage if you wish to see it succeed.  Pray, pray, pray and work towards finding the common ground necessary to build from again.  2012 was our year.  Make 2013 yours.

Blessings!

I'm successfully irritated.  My charity level is low to non-existent right now, so I apologize in advance.

There has been yet another striking blow to religious freedoms today... this time in Denmark. All over the world, governments are attempting to put religious freedom to death, and no one is any the wiser.  Why?  Because it's all being done under the guise of social justice.

Danish parliament has just passed a law making it MANDATORY for all churches in Denmark to provide homosexual marriage ceremonies.

Take a second and let that process (if you're not too busy hurling).

A government is attempting to FORCE entire religious communities to utilize their sacred houses of worship for a ceremony that goes directly against their religious beliefs as a people.

I'm beyond disgusted. 

Once again the issue of religious freedoms is ignored because folks are too busy crying foul over the issue of homosexuality.

I don't care if two men want to get hitched through civil unions.  Be my guest.  I draw the line, however, when those two men attempt making a mockery of our Sacrament by committing such a sacrilege in front of the Blessed Sacrament in a Catholic Church. 

As I said on Facebook, welcome to the reason I refuse to vote in favor of anyone trying to push this through our court system.

As I said in a previous entry, Australia is quickly following suit. The US won't be far behind.

I'm all for homosexuals getting hitched in churches that condone it. I am NOT okay with a government stepping in to force ANYONE to accept a union that cannot be recognized by aforementioned religion.

Catholic priests cannot "consecrate" a union that is considered abhorrent and inherently sinful. No matter how much a government wants to kick, scream and cry, a faithful Catholic priest cannot (and will not) call a blessing down upon that which is mortally sinful.

Even if one tried to, do you think God would say, "Ya know what?  Alright... since you asked so nicely, I'll be sure to go against that which I've stated - repeatedly - and reward you for your impressively arrogant disobedience."

Again, Lord, mercy.