A Wedding Night Story: Part Three

***DISCLAIMER: If you don't want to know personal things about myself and my husband, or read words like "tampon", "period" or "sex"........you should just click that handy little "X" right now.  I am past the point of embarrassment, but completely understand that others may not be comfortable with this story. :-)***

I went back to the doctor at the end of August 2010. In case you've lost count, we'd been married 14 months by this point. I had begun to refer to myself as "The Super Virgin" in private.

Also, as a little side note: Never ask people why they don't have kids yet. I can't tell you how many times a well-meaning woman gave a little hint-hint, nudge-nudge to me and had no idea the dagger she sent to my heart. I'm not being dramatic. When you are in the midst of a situation in which you want to have children, but can't, it is so hard to hear even the well-meaning comments. This doesn't mean that you can NEVER say anything about it, but try to know the person you are nudging before you nudge them.

The doctor confirmed what I had already suspected (thank you, Dr. Google):Vaginismus. See? Told you…gross words are happening. Basically, vaginal spasms. My doctor was pretty sure this was caused by the lack of normal exposure all through growing up. My muscles were in shock. Yay. She prescribed Zoloft.

Yep. An anti-depressant. At first, I was like, "Um...whaaat?" But she explained herself. Anti-depressants basically dull nerves in your brain, so you don't feel sadness or anxiety. She was banking on the fact that this would dull nerve endings as well. She told me I would likely lose some or all of my sex drive, but after six weeks, my nerve endings should be dull enough to handle sexual contact. Six weeks. I could handle that.

Those weeks actually passed by much more quickly than I had anticipated. My best friend got married and, contrary to her fear so lovingly passed on by me, did not have the same issue that I had. A friend who had met and married his wife in the time that we, ourselves, had already been married called us to announce their pregnancy. I noticed I was not weepy like I had been. Probably the Zoloft. 

In November, 2010, nearly a year and a half after we got married, we tried (with low expectations) once again. SUCCESS! I will spare you the details. I don't think either one of us could believe it. To my embarrassment, I blurted it out to my mother-in-law early the next morning... I'm sure she really appreciated that, but I had tell someone! I felt like a literal weight had been taken off of me.

Things began to look up. We found an apartment, jobs, and my Lyme symptoms subsided. I (not wisely) weaned off of Zoloft because we had decided to go ahead and try to have a baby, but to no avail (for five months). It took another three months after I came off of Zoloft, a process that I did not do with a doctor's supervision or my husband's knowledge**. I wanted to see if my body could handle it; and guess what? It could! (**Also, this was a bad idea medically...I experienced ALL THE EMOTIONS AT ONCE.)

After we found out that we were expecting (Molly), my OB/GYN told me that after a vaginal birth, my nerves would reset themselves, and the problem would likely be fixed, permanently. I am happy to say that is how things went! 

We have been married five and a half years. Sometimes it feels like we've been married much longer than that, I think because we were forced to learn to communicate and put aside a large portion of "the honeymoon phase." My husband is the most patient man on the planet, and I am so thankful for him.

I could use this as a platform for discouraging waiting for sex until you're married, but that isn't my point. I'm glad I waited. I think it was the right thing to do. I am (in hindsight) thankful for the challenge that we went through together. It has made us appreciate the normal physical relationship of a husband and wife so much more, and taught us to treat each other as best friends, first and foremost.

I shared my story with a girl my own age who was engaged in our church, right there in the sanctuary! (Sorry, anyone who walked by and got an earful!) I was shocked when she told me that someone she knew had dealt with something similar, but because she had shared it with several of her friends (nurses!), they had helped her figure out what the problem was before it became a major issue!

This is my hope with these blog posts. Consider opening the doors of communication with your daughters, your friends, and the young women in your church. Sex is not taboo. The logistics are something that should be talked about. I never knew that it was possible for there to be a problem (through no fault of my mother's… I was terribly uncomfortable talking about it, myself). I tell my story more frequently now and with less secrecy.

I don't want to pretend anymore, even by omission, that I had sex on my wedding night. I'm proud of our story, and I'm proud of who we are because of it.

Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, shared, posted, commented, and messaged about this story. The support, love, and encouragement have been overwhelming! 

A Wedding Night Story: Part Two

***DISCLAIMER: If you don't want to know personal things about myself and my husband, or read words like "tampon", "period" or "sex"........you should just click that handy little "X" right now.  I am past the point of embarrassment, but completely understand that others may not be comfortable with this story. :-)***

Start At The Beginning -- Read Part One HERE

This is where it gets difficult to write. Up until this point, my story could be anyone's story. A girl who waited to have sex 'til she's married. We were a nervous couple.

I don't remember very much from our honeymoon. If I'm being honest, I try to block a good portion of it out of my brain. We had fun, and we enjoyed the beautiful West Virginia mountains, the city of Charlottesville, and historical Williamsburg. But we did not consummate our marriage. 

We tried, and tried, and tried. And tried. I cried a lot. I spent a lot of time in the bathroom, praying and begging God to make me "more comfortable" and "less scared." I didn't feel afraid, but without bringing too much detail into an already detailed story - there was searing pain every time we tried. 

I thought that surely I was just inexperienced, and it would eventually happen. God bless my husband that first time he suggested that perhaps there was something else going on...something physically wrong. I probably yelled at him; I don't remember.

In any rational situation, I should have come home and gone to the doctor. But in my irrational, emotional state, I did what any girl would do: I came home and lied. Oh yeah - honeymoon was GREAT! We totally had sex! Better remember to take my pills - ha ha! 

We moved into our teeny, tiny one-room (you heard me. one. room.) apartment in Lanham, Maryland in July. We went to the D.C. Capitol Fourth and (tried) to make friends with other married couples in our building. It was hard. Deceit was hard. 

In August, I told my mother and my best friend what was going on. My mother insisted that I see a doctor, and my best friend hugged me while I cried. I told my extremely patient husband that he could talk to his friends about it, too, if he wanted. I don't know who all he talked to, but he came back with the idea that maybe I just needed to be a little tipsy. It seemed like a good idea (you know, to a couple who have been married three months and are grasping at straws!) - but didn't work. Searing pain.

I made an appointment in October with my mom's OB/GYN. In November, I saw her. I made my mother go with me. Like, in the exam room and everything. The gynecologist could hardly do her examination without me freaking out. My body had gotten so used to tensing for the pain that it was getting worse.

It was then that we finally got some answers. I was not too afraid, I was not too tense…it was not my fault at all. She told me I was born this way, and would need a procedure called a hymenectomy to remove the muscle that was preventing sexual intercourse. She told us there was a hole the size of a pin-prick. This was why I had unusually long and painful periods (9+ days), and also why I could never use a tampon (though I had admittedly not tried many times). Unfortunately, the surgery could not be scheduled until February, 2010.

Although I was thankful for a diagnosis, the weight of not being intimate with my husband did not dissipate. I was still very secretive, telling only the people I had to tell. This probably made me seem unapproachable and depressed. I was. I was petrified that people would laugh at me for not knowing this sooner, or for not going to the doctor until now. Through all of this, Patrick was loving, patient, and kind. He would spend hours playing Uno or watching movies with me, never once complaining about the situation that we were in, and in return, he had to listen to me sobbing over something I could not change.

It was during this time that I realized a part of my emotional instability was probably coming from the birth control pills that I still religiously took. I think it was to maintain a sense of normalcy. Regardless, it was a waste of money and I laugh at myself for taking them! We discussed it, prayed over it, and decided, after some research,  we really weren't big fans of what it was simulating in my body to begin with.

I threw away the pills and that week, I regained some emotional clarity. I will never take birth control pills again. I don't say this as a judgment on those who do, but for myself, I don't like who I was when I was on them and I don't like what they were doing to my body.

In February, 2010, I had surgery. I was scared out of my mind. It wasn't even a major surgery; outpatient, and I could walk that night! I think part of my fear was from the lack of people who knew about it. I had no one to talk to outside of my immediate family, and even then, I didn't tell my sisters, sisters-in-law, or closer friends from school. Recovery was just a few weeks long, but I was under strict instructions not to attempt sexual intercourse for eight weeks. 

We planned a trip to Williamsburg for Spring Break. A second honeymoon. I was so excited (and nervous!). I got the "All Clear" from my OB/GYN just a week prior to the trip over the phone, as well as a prescription numbing cream, just in case. 

I'll skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point: It didn't work. I was in just as much pain, and now various extremities were also numb from the cream. Which, SIDE NOTE, who thought that was going to be a great idea?!?! 

My longsuffering husband ran out for two giant tubs of ice cream and we stayed up all night, eating ice cream and binge-watching 30 Rock and The Office. Bless him.

I called my doctor and explained what happened. She told me to wait it out, six more weeks, and then come in for an appointment, and if we were still having a problem, she would figure out what to do next.

Meanwhile, we moved back to Salisbury. Patrick's school (where we lived, worked, and attended) was having a financial crisis, and after dealing with many missed and late paychecks, we made the decision to eliminate a stressor in our lives and regroup back with our families. Patrick's parents graciously allowed us to rent a room from them while we got back on our feet. Much of our savings had gone towards my surgery and medical bills.

As if enough wasn't enough, I began to display symptoms of Lyme disease again in the time while we were living in Lanham. I was in denial about it for a while, but coupled with my other issues, my mother was attuned to my daily physical state and insisted that I go to the doctor. My best friend was getting married, I was starting a detox and antibiotic treatment, and we still couldn't have sex. It was a tough time for us.

I went back to the doctor at the end of August 2010. In case you've lost count, we'd been married 14 months by this point. I had begun to refer to myself as "The Super Virgin" in private.

To Be Continued...

A Wedding Night Story: Part One

***DISCLAIMER: If you don't want to know personal things about myself and my husband, or read words like "tampon", "period" or "sex"........you should just click that handy little "X" right now.  I am past the point of embarrassment, but completely understand that others may not be comfortable with this story. :-)***

How do you begin writing something that is so personal that the thought of others reading about it takes your breath away? 

I have thought about writing our story many times. I have discussed it at length with my husband. I've prayed about it. 

Why do I want to write about it if I am afraid? I think, sometimes, sharing your trials with others can be healing. I also want other women to know they aren't alone; there are many variations of my story. I have heard them, now that I am looking for them.

So with a deep breath, here it goes.

There was once a girl who was not very athletic (spoiler alert: that's me). This girl did not do much sports-ing. Her mother encouraged her, once she had reached a certain age, to use tampons so that life did not absolutely freeze during her period. The thought of it grossed her out, and when she tried, it hurt, so she decided that the pad-life was for her.

Fast forward to 2006. This was the summer that my life changed. I had a tick bite and began to have what I now know to be classic Lyme disease symptoms. 

Unfortunately, Lyme disease awareness was not what it is now, even just nine years later. My doctors did a blood test for a whole host of things, but nothing came back positive. I went from being a healthy, energetic 15-year-old to a weak, migraine-y 16-year-old in just a few short months.

I spent much of my next two years battling doctors, diagnoses, and my own denial. There were times that I should have pushed myself harder and times that I should have rested. 

In my senior year of high school, I took a short-term job with a company and moved to Montana for a month or so. I pushed myself very hard while I was there, but with some bad choices and failing health, God made sure that I made my way back home by the end of May, 2008. His Hand is always providential, and though I could not see it at the time, I quickly saw the benefit of His moving me back home.

In June 2008, I met Patrick. His family had started attending my church while I had been away.

Sure, we'd "met" before. I'm sure people are tired of us joking about it, but on the off chance that you're not – Our families both participated in Home School Day at the local skate rink. So, we literally skated in the same circles as kids, although he was part of the "cool kid" homeschool group, and - shocker - I was not. ;-)

I had a photograph of him from high school, when he was a host at Red Lobster and I went with friends, documenting all the while with a disposable camera (as one did, in 2004).

Those who know me know I am not shy. I recognized him, and brought a copy of the photograph the next week. I walked right up to him and introduced myself. We hit it off and spent the rest of the afternoon (a church picnic) getting to know each other. Within a few weeks, we had roped our siblings into spending the summer playing Frisbee golf, mini golf, and board games. 

By the end of the summer, our relationship was official. He asked my dad for permission to court me, and even though he left for college, our relationship rapidly progressed. I thought we were headed towards marriage in a year or two, but in November, he surprised me with a proposal! 

The college that Patrick was attending had a special apartment building reserved for married students. We were thrilled and began to make plans for our wedding the following June (2009). 

I was also formally diagnosed with Lyme disease in the Fall of 2008. Although no tests would come back 100 percent positive, the PA at my pediatrician's office gave me antibiotics in a last-ditch effort to diagnose by treatment. I saw results within a few weeks and he continued the treatment until I was no longer suffering weekly migraines and muscle weakness.

As we got closer to our wedding date, my mother suggested that I go see a gynecologist. I know I am a grown woman, but still, the word gynecologist gives me the heebie-jeebies. I protested - why would I need to go until after I was sexually active? My pediatrician confirmed that really, there was no need for me to go, and they could even supply me with birth control pills. With my anxieties at bay (for a least a few months), we filled the prescription for birth control pills and I began to take them.

I felt myself becoming an angry person. I yelled and cried a LOT. Maybe it was the stress of the wedding? I convinced myself that it was definitely not because of the pills. You couldn't have children in the married housing at the school, so we were not planning on having children until Patrick graduated. 

June 6, 2009. We were married. All of the barriers, all of the rules - gone. I can't describe it to you. It felt insane. We were exhausted by the preparation and the day. It took 45 minutes to get to our hotel, and another hour until the 40 bobby pins were out of my hair and we were both showered. We had to be up early, so we decided to relax and enjoy our first night as husband and wife with no pressure, just lots of snuggling and some blessed sleep.

This is where it gets difficult to write. Up until this point, my story could be anyone's story. A girl who waited to have sex 'til she's married. We were a nervous couple.

I don't remember very much from our honeymoon. If I'm being honest, I try to block a good portion of it out of my brain. We had fun, and we enjoyed the beautiful West Virginia mountains, the city of Charlottesville, and historical Williamsburg. But we did not consummate our marriage. 

We tried, and tried, and tried. And tried. I cried a lot. I spent a lot of time in the bathroom, praying and begging God to make me "more comfortable" and "less scared." I didn't feel afraid, but without bringing too much detail into an already detailed story - there was searing pain every time we tried. 

To Be Continued... 

Thoughts On Direct Sales...

(this is important, y'all!)

This is a touchy subject, and a particularly controversial one right now, it seems. I have seen rants and raves on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter about how annoying it is when people post about their direct sales businesses.

I will admit - I used to be mildly irritated by posts from friends about makeup, candles, jewelry etc. (even though I am a Plexus Ambassador! Talk about hypocritical...)- HOWEVER, someone recently said something to me that really changed my perspective on direct sales posts.

I'm paraphrasing here, but the bottom line was this:

We are walking advertisements for everything we use and like - we tell our friends about that great new drink at Starbucks, the awesome shampoo we just started using on our kids, and the shoes we just got from that discount place online. 

The majority of us are not getting a "cut" of the sales that are made directly from our inadvertent advertising. Wouldn't you rather that one of your friends received some income or benefit from your purchase of a Peppermint Mocha or favorite new shampoo?

So instead of being irritated and 'hiding' those you once interacted with, just scroll past the things that don't interest you, and continue to interact with them normally. :)