June sucks

The month of June is a hard month for me. Well- actually it all starts at the end of May. It was never a bad month- until 2015. Then it became a bad month. I had a 13month old and I was 7 months pregnant with twins. See, around the time my life began *obviously* falling apart (it was long before, but shhhh that’s a secret) things happened on significant dates. My husband overdosed for the first time on one of my closest friend’s birthday. She spent her whole birthday with my 13 month old, and her husband spent the day with me and my husband. I stayed with her that night because well…it wasn’t safe for me to go home. High husband…threatening to leave the hospital…police were there…I had been attacked by my husband in the waiting room of the ER. I didn’t get hurt-kudos to my friend’s hubs for helping in that stressful situation.  A week after that day it was my husband’s birthday. He got high on PCP or a designer drug similar and with my limited knowledge of drugs and what high people look like; ignorance was bliss- I hid my husbands car keys and gun, and went and slept on the floor in front of our daughter’s room. Just in case whatever craziness he had going on was going to effect my kid. Don’t mess with Mama Bear. The next day I told him and showed him the videos. He thought it was funny. I made him go clear out his office. He told me he was making “supplements”. No sir, you are making drugs (this revelation came months later when I start researching the ingredients of his supplements). Fast forward a week or so- he is planning on going on a trip with a bunch of guys from high school/college for a bachelor party. I ask him not to go. I need help. I’m seriously pregnant with twins. He says he deserves a vacation. whoopdie freakin do. I don’t need a vacation? I digress.  So he is gone over my birthday. Mind you- the previous year he forgot my birthday, June 20. He really needed to not miss this one, considering we had only been married a little less than 2 years. Anyway guess what happened. He forgot. I couldn’t get a hold of him, I couldn’t even get a hold of him the next day. I ended up calling the hotel and tracking him down. His phone had gone mysteriously missing at some venue (found out it was a place called lipstixxx several months later- it sucks when a hooker steals your phone) I go to the airport to pick him up. He’s not there. I wait for 3 hrs. I take my baby home, and leave her with my brother and sister-in-law (who luckily lived with us and got to witness this phase of life in all it’s glory). I go back to the airport, and while I am searching for answers, a big pregnant-PANICKING-woman in the airport I get a call from the police that my husband had a seizure on the airplane at was taken to a hospital. I go to the hospital. My brother comes too (he got to ride in a police car going 100MPH. jealous.) So I go to the hospital and they won’t tell me what’s wrong. He seized for 4 days in the ICU. No one will tell me what’s going on. I finally find out he has told them they can’t. I found out at discharge, when I told him I wasn’t taking him home otherwise that he had high amounts of METH and PCP in his system. We go home and I tell him that if he ever does drugs again he can’t live with us. His seizure happened on June 21, my mother’s birthday- the day I realized the previous overdose wasn’t just an accident, and that he probably was high on his birthday when I didn’t know what was going on and slept outside my daughter’s room. Yall.  HE DIDN’T STOP. HE DIDN’T ASK FOR HELP. EVERYONE TOLD HIM TO GET HELP, OFFERED HELP. I didn’t know he was still doing drugs, I thought all the things that continued to happen (I.e. picking his skin off) were residual effects from the seizure. My uncle called it. He told my parents that he thought my husband was on drugs. See I hadn’t told anyone besides my friends who stepped in and rescued me earlier in the month. Our wedding anniversary is June 29. June 29, 2015 I tried to celebrate, but really I realized I was in over my head. I needed to tell people we needed help. We started counseling. I’ll leave it there. Maybe next post I’ll rehash July of 2015.

This is why the month of June is hard for me. June of 2015 sucked. Now when it’s June, we start the month off remembering his first overdose, then it’s his birthday, Father’s day (which come on- I have a great dad, but my kids don’t so I feel conflicted about this day), my birthday, mom’s birthday (2nd overdose anniversary), and then our wedding anniversary.  Last year on June 29th I was sitting in a lawyers office asking to file for divorce (still not divorced- being married to a lawyer sucks). This year would have been 4 years. June sucks. I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I’m just overwhelmed by emotion at this point in my life, and in June they all come flooding back like a force to be reckoned with. Divorce is the last thing I ever wanted. It really hurts. Hurts SO much. It was a hard decision, and I’ve had to mourn the life I’m not gonna have, but I have these three magical little people who need me to move on and dream of the life the 4 of us are gonna have. That’s what they deserve. but June still sucks.


This is my baby June of 2015. Her smile and fluffy toddler hair make me smile.


I’ve spent a lot of my life being who I thought someone would want me to. That someone could be my parents, brothers, friends, boyfriend, husband, teacher, you name the person, I had an idea of who they wanted me to be, and I would try my best to be that person. Do you know what that does to a person? In the midst of utter chaos, it will leave you lost.

It’s not any of those people’s fault. I am the person who wanted to please. I am the one who wanted to be perfect and be everything to everyone. The truth is, I am replaceable in many areas of life. When I left my job after having Clara, REPLACED, when I quit playing piano at church, REPLACED, ect… do you see where I’m going? In most areas of your life, there is going to be someone to pick up the slack, whether they are worse at it than you, or better than you. My experience is they are usually better than me and then I have to come up with some reason why that person is more successful than me.  I never realized this about myself before. I knew I wanted people to like me. I thought everyone felt that way, so obviously I was normal and just like everyone else.

Fast forward to me sitting in counseling and telling my therapist about all the problems with my peoples.

He says “Who is taking care of Kim?”

This may come as a surprise, but he asked me this pretty much every time I came to see him. I didn’t know that he could see it, but he knew. I was lost. I was physically ok, but otherwise I was lost. There was chaos swirling around me, I couldn’t see the ground, and I had spent my entire marriage trying to be the person my husband wanted me to be, that when it all came crashing down, I was lost. I had 3 kids under 3. I got that, change diapers, feed people, don’t cry in front of them, be a good mom. So I was mom. I wasn’t wife anymore. I had spent the past 3-4 years trying to be exactly what this man wanted me to be, and now I didn’t know what to do. I was lost. Barely treading water. Who was I? Who was Kim? When he asked me “Who is taking care of Kim?” I think he might have also been asking “Who is Kim?”

Honestly. I am still figuring parts of it out. There are constants. Things that are intrinsic that have gotten stronger, and taken more root. That is my faith in Christ. There is no way I would be able to even stand up or be alive through all this without Him. He has been my Rock. The Lord has blessed me immeasurably through friendships, he’s humbled me, he has shown me how much he loves me through all the mess. He has answered so many prayers. He has asked me to reach out and ask people for prayer (I felt so uncomfortable doing it, and then He answered my prayer!). I can’t say enough that I know God is real, and that He loves me, and that He has big plans for my kids, cause He got them here in a big hurry.   My family. They have stood by me, and been there for me. We have only gotten stronger. My besties. They have seen me in my worst. The worst. I’ve said mean things shown them just plain ugly sides of myself, and they have shown me nothing but grace, love, and support. I can say that my foundations are really strong. If you don’t have a strong foundation, you need to get one.

The things I want and need to figure out about myself are things that I always did for other people that I should have been doing for myself. I am gonna do the things I wanted to do before I decided to be who my husband wanted me to be. I love being a mom. I love those crazy little monsters. But, what kind of example am I setting for them, if I don’t show them that you get to have a life and be your own person? I don’t have to be nothing else and just be mom. That isn’t my identity. I need to be me. I can dye my hair purple and have sleeve tats, and at the same time be a good mom too. I’m pretty sure purple hair and sleeve tats is not this gal right here, but you get my point. I have however already dyed my hair rose gold, and the next round I think it will be a little more pink than this round! What is my style? What do I want to be when I grow up (I know, I’m 30, but give me a break people!)? What’s on my bucket list? What do I want? NOT What does the other person want. WHAT DO I WANT? I’m not trying to be selfish. I’m trying to decide. That’s not wrong. I’m just gonna do me.  I know. Most people did this when they went to college at 18. I’m a little late to the game. I want to go to dinner with my friends, and I want a life that is not just about kids, or spouses. I want to have interests and things that don’t just revolve around other people. Is that too much to ask? I need to find myself. I need to get unlost.

Out of Control

Control. It’s not something I ever thought I struggled with. BUT- the circumstances of life, have shown me just how much I’m not in control. There is someone in control, and it’s definitely not me!

I got married and a month and half later felt weird. Yep, pregnant. I felt pregnant. So June wedding and April baby. She was (and is) a doll. The following November, I found out I was pregnant again. Unfortunately I lost that baby. I felt out of control when I thought I’d have kids 14 months apart, and I felt out of control when I couldn’t keep that baby alive inside me. Completely helpless. A few months later in January, I feel weird again. Ok- so I go to the doctor to get some hormones balanced and they told me “Hey, your hormones are off, but it’s because you are pregnant.” WHAT???? I go in for the ultrasound and BAM- There it is twins. TWINS. Did I mention my 9 month old daughter was crying in a stroller next to me while I was getting the ultrasound? I didn’t struggle to get pregnant. I know many do, so I am not trying to make light of that. All of this is to say that all of this was out of my control. I was happy, but scared. I was a newlywed-with an infant–pregnant with twins. I felt as if I was sitting in the passenger seat of a car going 100mph and there is no driver.  Totally in shock, and wondering “Who in the heck is driving this car?”  The thing is I know who is driving the car. It’s the One who created the universe. The Savior of my Soul.

FAST FORWARD and I end up being a single mom to 3 kids under the age of 2.

My world began to crumble around the time I was 6 months pregnant with the twins. It completely shattered when my precious babes were 3 weeks old. My twins arrived at 37 weeks 3 days. They were big and healthy, despite all the stress I had been under the last three months of my pregnancy. I even came home 2 days after they were born. (I figured you got to stay longer depending on the number babies you have- but no) My grandmother died when the twins were a week old. My grandmother who I acted as a caretaker for the previous 2 years. Out of Control. She was my last living grandparent. She was sick and it wasn’t a surprise, but that doesn’t mean you miss them any less. That doesn’t mean you don’t wish they had more time with their great grandchildren. That the kids could know her and cherish her the same way that I did. The two weeks later my husband moved out of the house. I was there, alone with twin newborns who don’t sleep, who have intense reflux, and I have a 16 month old who is completely confused about the world. She has two new people who cry and take her mom away, and dad is gone. Out of Control. There has to be someone in control. My head spun for days. Partially because I was so sleep deprived, and partially because my whole world literally crumbled, but I was needed by 3 little people.

I knew everything was out of my control. Because, seriously? I have thought several times over the past year “Can this be real life?” “Whose life is this?”  Well, remember when I referenced the One who created the universe, the Savior of my Soul. I have hope in Jesus Christ, the one who loves me and saved me. He is in control.

Let me show you how.

The baby I lost, it would have come around the time when things began to crumble. The amount of stress that came the time around the due date that would have been too much. God knew that baby was safer with Him. He wanted to keep that baby safe. The twins being born healthy and big? It minimized our bills, and I didn’t have to deal with NICU or preemies. I even had them naturally, so my recovery was so much faster than if I had to have a C-Section. Did I mention that we lived in my parents house because they lived in Switzerland? Did I mention my mom was back from their home in Switzerland to help me. My grandmother, she got to meet my twins. She talked about them constantly for the last few months of her life. I’m so glad she got to meet them, and them her before she went to see Jesus. My dad had also come back in town to be with his mom before she passed. He was here when my husband moved out. So while I did have 3 kids under two years old, I had my mom and my dad here. My mom who is excellent at child rearing. She woke up with me every night to feed the babies. She rocked them for hours on end in the middle of the night. She never ended up going back to Switzerland.  My dad was able to get transferred back permanently and moved home for good in December.

As soon as I finally opened up to my bestie about how bad things actually were, she stepped right in. When my husband moved out, she started coming over 1 morning each week to watch my kids, or help me watch the kids. That way my mom or I could go get groceries, or in my case go to therapy. Did I mention she also set up help two other mornings of the week. She, her husband, and my other bestie, came over the day after my husband moved out to clean up the mess he had left. They moved all of my things to a new bedroom, and took wonderful care of my babies. They sent me to get a massage.

I didn’t write all this to tell you a sob story.  I wrote it to show you how I thought I had it all in control, and in reality- I have no control.  All I can say is- I know God is in control. He may allow such CRAP to happen. But He also takes care of you. Take heart, friends. The Creater of the Universe will take care of you. One way or another. He will also teach you a multitude of lessons along the way.

It’s coming up on a year since my husband left. I still have issues with control, and I probably always will. But I also have 3 kids, so whatever control I think I have, it’s probably just an illusion.


Brave New Tomorrow

Opportunities for Bravery

“Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow”. Does that line ring a bell? It’s from the hymn Great is Thy Faithfulness by Thomas Chrisholm. Sitting in church, in the midst of my uncertainty, we sang that hymn. That line hit me upside the head, and reminded me that God will strengthen me, and there is hope.

Hi. I’m Kimberly. I don’t know much, but what I do know is that life is full of opportunities. Opportunities for bravery. Every day is a new opportunity for bravery. Things were pretty simple for me. Then life happened. Adulting happened. Tragedy struck. I had to make some choices. Hard choices.  Necessary choices. I find myself in the place where I am a single mother to 3 incredible children who are all under the age of 3. That’s right folks, I’ve got irish triplets. A singleton (moms of multiples lingo) and twins who arrived 16 months later.

I am a follower of Christ. I am by no means perfect.  One morning, in the midst of my tragedy, I was unable to sleep. I got up, made myself coffee, and began to read my Bible and pray. As I was praying, begging God for answers as to why in the heck is this happening, He sent me to Jeremiah.  I was reading about how God would rebuild the city.  I sat there wondering what God was trying to say to me in that moment, and honestly, I didn’t know. What I do know is that God is saying He his faithful. That He is the hope I have to hold onto. That God is faithful, and He has me. He has my kids. He has my future, hopes, worries, anxieties, fears, joys, trials, happiness… (do you see where I’m going?). He is orchestrating my life, and I may not see why, or how in the world He is going to work this for my good, but His word tells me He is (Romans 8:28). That seems like a cliché Bible verse to some, but to those in trial, those who have no idea what God is doing or why He allows things to happen, it reminds you that God’s got this and He is working it for your good, despite our doubt.

So there it is. A Brave New Tomorrow. Every night when I go to bed, I have to choose to be brave tomorrow. No matter how I failed or succeeded that day.  Whether I kicked butt at parenting, or lost it about 100 times that day (this is what typically happens). I have people depending on me to be brave.

So I will be brave.