Friday, February 25, 2011

The first cut

Typically a second chance is the one following the first mistake. That first time you stumble, blunder, stick your foot in your mouth. Some falls are more spectacular than others. Some are more wounding than others. Some are small and inconsequential so the second chance seems almost nonexistent. So my question is can you run out of grace? Is it like a cat’s nine lives? Does the pool run dry?

Matt and I got married when we were so absurdly young that now when I look back on it I can’t believe we actually went through with it. Yes, being 7 ½ months pregnant definitely pushed us into it, but we could have waited. He could have balked. I could have said no. But we did do it. We said our vows, took the step. I used to trick myself into believing that it was a colossal mistake, our marriage. My memories were that we only hurt one another.

Our timing was abominable. When I was ready to commit and build a family, he was still licking his wounds from my pre-marital inability to stay focused. In turn when he was ready, I couldn’t breathe. And so it went. Then we divorced. Had Devon 20 months later and then split again after my father died. There was a span when we tried to pick it up but, again, timing was not what it could have been.

In November when I saw Matt in the ER something shifted from within. Something let go as I was standing next to his high walled bed where he writhed and looked so scared because his damn kidneys caused him to have a stroke. In those moments, with Loren and Cass at my side and Devon crouched in the doorway, I knew we were somehow still a unit. Broken or no, there was a bind that still existed. And nothing else mattered.

In the past I’ve been bound up by crippling self-esteem issues, fear of success or nearly any other psychological affliction I could slather on my being. There was some sort of satisfaction in calling it a failure and then living out the results, a self-fulfilling prophecy if you will. No longer. I’ve screwed up beyond words in the past but at this point I really don’t give a flip. Life truly is short and I don’t intend to skulk about the edges wishing I had something only to push it away when it presents itself. I want a family. My family. Like Stitch said, it is broken but it’s still a family. And I want it back. For true this time. In our case I believe there will be enough second chances to go the distance. I believe there is hope and love.


  1. I'm extremely nosy too, but very up front about it. And tickled pink.

  2. I salute you! seeing as though this was written in 2011, how are you all doing now? I'm in between realationships, that meaning divorced and about to accept the very same man's proposal to start afresh. I'm so conflicted. It's comforting that I'm not alone.