Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Motivation Part 2


It was the perfect spring day outside. The grass was green, the weather was great, and like always I had high hopes for the Royals. We had literally just signed a contract and wrote our earnest money check to buy our “next step” house. We were at a point in our lives where we felt somewhat comfortable. We were ready to take our lives to the next level. Start a family, you know, finally become a grown-up. We had been trying to get pregnant for a few weeks.*

*Okay am I the only one that cannot stop thinking about all the bumping uglies people are doing when they say they are “trying to get pregnant?” Maybe I’m in the minority, but I doubt it.

And on that perfect spring day Rachel had been having heartburn which I found odd, seeing that she had never had heartburn before and I told her, I bet you’re pregnant. I had many thoughts run through my head when that that little pee stick showed a blue plus sign confirming my pregnancy theory. My very first thoughts were excitement, happiness, and pure joy. Then slowly but surely doubt crept in as I wasn’t sure how this was going to work. I was nervous. I was scared. I was uncertain of myself. As we all know life moves on whether we are ready or not so…

We moved into our new house and Rachel, (who is the most beautiful pregnant person I have ever seen, she just glows and is so dang cute) was able to transfer to a management position at a new bank branch so we were alright. Except that I couldn’t keep my job. Which is another story altogether. Let’s just say that my five year career in the mortgage industry had very few ups and lots and lots of downs. I worked for many companies as a loan officer and was never successful at any of them. Quite frankly I stunk. I was lazy, unmotivated, and not driven whatsoever. Not a very good recipe for a salesman.

This obviously led to undue stress on Rachel and me, and with a new mortgage payment over double of our previous one, it was imperative that I got my act together. But I didn’t. You see I was over-weight, not at my heaviest, but still morbidly obese. I was depressed and unable to handle my feelings. I gained more weight and then some more. Pregnancy weight…right. Wrong, through my immature actions, selfishness, and inability to hold a job I have always felt guilty and responsible for what was to come. If I would have “shaped up” and got my crap together, who knows? Maybe there would have been less stress, maybe then things would have turned out different? Just maybe.

In September, Rachel starting suffering from pre-eclampsia, a condition that includes high blood pressure and swelling of hands, feet, and ankles. And by November the condition had worsened and Rachel was put on bed rest. Of course being the wonderful husband I was (this would be the perfect case for a sarcasm font, hey Bill Gates, get on that would ya?) I failed at yet another mortgage job and somehow suckered another company into hiring me. Well the new company held training in St Louis, MO so when my pre-eclampsic, 7 month pregnant wife needed me most to care for her while she was on bed rest, I was gone. Way to go, Joe. Way to go.

I was gone a week for training and then came back for the weekend to go to an appointment to make sure everything was ok. Our baby’s due date was in late January but here we were at a Doctors appointment on a Saturday, being told by a Doctor (not OUR Doctor mind you, he was out of town, well of course he was) that we were not leaving the hospital without a baby. Gulp! This is too early. We are not ready. Oh lord, what am I gonna do?

Well she was wrong, we did leave the hospital without a baby, our journey had just begun…To be continued…

1 comment:

  1. Well this wasn't the blog I thought you would ever write (and cannot wait for more to come). I became teary-eyed immediately, partly because these emotions are still so raw (funny 4 years later) and partly because I remember how sunny everything seemed at first. Man oh man, look out world here come the Riddells.

    Maybe we just need to start over. That's right, lets go kick out that bum who is living in our precious first house (and still hasn't taken our pillows off the front porch swing), resume the first mortgage, squish the kids together in the pumpkin room, bump uglies*(your words, not mine)in our tiny master bedroom, trim the rose bushes and suffer long commutes.
    Maybe then our journey wouldn't be so complicated and then again, maybe just maybe, we wouldn't know how to hurt so deeply, love so intensely, or experience joy so easily.