***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...
