the draw - what i learned

 
(To catch up on this story, start here.)

In the past 4ish years, there have been specific moments I can think of in which God was trying to pull me closer.  Of course, I'm only realizing this in hindsight.  All of those times when I felt totally unequipped to handle something on my own, He was trying to draw me to Him.  Most of the time, I chose to respond and function as if I needed to do it by myself.

This is why I entitled my story "The Draw."  (You didn't read the story??  Well, you must!)  This time, I was finally drawn in.  I've learned a few things from all of this and I wanted to share them with you.

I learned the definition of "anxiety."  If anything, it helps me relate to others who have gone through it or are currently dealing with it.  It seems to be a bit of a taboo topic to discuss, but we don't have to live like that.  Talking with others and discussing it provides help, relief, and maybe even healing.

I learned about casting my cares upon the Lord.  I might have even attempted this a few times in my life.  But it sure is hard to cast your burdens on someone when you're keeping a tight grip on them.  

I learned about the love of God.  God loves as a Father loves.  He loves us and he sets us straight.  I can only hope and pray that I will be that kind of parent to Duke - not make his life easy all the time, but allow him to learn hard lessons and maybe suffer a bit so that, as he grows, he becomes someone better.  He thinks better, he acts better, he loves better.  It'll hurt me to watch, I'm sure.  But I wouldn't want to sacrifice who Duke can become just so I can keep myself comfortable and free from concern.  This is a new prayer of mine - to be this kind of mother.

I learned that I'm prideful.  I'm actually the worst kind of prideful.  There are the prideful people who have everything they've ever wanted and know 100% that they got themselves to that point.  Maybe they're rich, famous, successful.  But whatever they are, they take full credit for their accomplishments.  Then, there are the people like me.  We work normal jobs, we wipe poopy bottoms, we have budgets, and we eat Ramen Noodles.  We're down to earth.  We don't get everything we ask for but we do get some things we ask for.  We recognize our abilities, but also know God is mixed in there somewhere.  There's no way I could possibly be prideful.  And just like that, I am.  It's a very hidden pride.  Yes, God gave me the ability to play the piano.  But I did start taking lessons when I was 7 and continued to major in it in college.  So, I mean, I worked pretty hard to get where I am and I do kind of deserve it.  It's not that I've actually ever said that out loud, but that's the kind of thinking that is floating around subconsciously.  I never knew it was there.  I know myself better now and I ask God over and over to remind me that everything I have or can do is because of Him.

I learned what "glory to God" means.  This goes along with the above paragraph.  This phrase is something we sing a lot and read a lot.  In plain terms, it means that anything we do, don't do, have, or don't have has nothing to do with us or anything we've done.  We don't deserve good things.  But if we get them, the glory (recognition) should be given to God.

I learned what "to pray without ceasing" means.  The day after God healed me, I was in and out of prayer all day.  I was so aware of His goodness to me.  When life gets easy though, it's hard to remember that goodness and, in turn, it's hard to remember to pray.  One of my goals is to continue being mindful of this.

I learned about the "peace that passes understanding."  It's hard to know peace until you've known total chaos.

I learned that God can really heal physical needs.  It's not just an old Bible story thing.  Honestly, I never imagined I'd even need physical healing from God.  But this is legit stuff, people.  My whole body went from being in absolute pain to absolute freedom.  Nothing can explain that besides the work of God.  He completely delivered me.

I learned that God really is in control.  Twila Paris sang it back in '94 and she wasn't kidding.  (I hope you all just took a walk down memory lane with me.)  First of all, it's my personality to be in control.  But second, as a stay-at-home mom, I am used to being in control.  If Duke is hungry, I feed him.  If Duke is tired, I put him down for a nap.  If Duke wants to play, I play with him.  If a problem arises, I fix it.  Deep down, I just thought I wouldn't bother God with the details of my life.  You know, like I'd save Him a few extra things on His to-do list.  (So sweet of me, I know.  The God of the universe needs my help with His list.)  But that's just not how it works.  I know now that if God wants to make those daily tasks impossible for me to do on my own, He can.  And He did.  Ultimately, everything is in His hands.  I choose to believe and operate under the truth that there is nothing too big, too small, too easy, or too hard for Him.  And thank God for that.

the draw - a revelation

(To catch up on this story, start here.)

I got a call Tuesday morning from the doctor.  He said that my white count was low, probably due to fatigue.  (And considering the crazy nights leading up to this, fatigue wasn't surprising.)  But other than that, everything was fine.  So, while I was kind of glad that nothing serious was wrong with me, I still felt very uneasy about this whole anxiety diagnosis.

That morning, I had to take Duke to his 9 month appointment.  I was just hoping I wouldn't have a crazy episode while I was out.

Everything went fairly well that day.  I kept myself busy and tried to take deep breaths if I felt something weird coming on.  I'm in control of this thing, I kept telling myself.

At the end of the day, Colt reminded me to journal about all of this.  It was all really odd stuff and I had no answers.  As Colt was in the bathroom brushing his teeth, I sat in bed and began to journal.  But something stopped me.  Out of curiosity, I decided to look back on the past month's journal entries.

Tears began streaming down my face.

Here are a few of the excerpts I read that night:

June 5, 2012

I feel that if I discipline myself in prayer and listening to God, I could really be who I'm supposed to be and do what I'm supposed to do.

June 13, 2012

Not sure what is next on the agenda for me, but I have a hopeful feeling that God is going to give me something new and different and better.

June 14, 2012

Being helpless is what creates a deep prayer life.  God, how do I become helpless?  I need to be that.  I need to be less.  I need to feel weak.  I need to feel like I can't control or do things on my own.  Help me do that.

June 19, 2012

I need to have faith - not rely on optimism and answered prayers.  No matter what happens, God is still God and God is still good.

I was absolutely floored.

And do I remember writing or praying any of that?  Nope.

I wanted to feel a closeness and nearness with God that I hadn't ever felt.  I wanted to feel Him on the other side of my prayers.  I wanted to be dependent on Him and know that I truly was.  I wanted to give up control of my life.  I had asked Him for this.

He allowed me to do, feel, and know all of those things.  He allowed for this great pain to overwhelm my body, something that I have always been very good at controlling.  He allowed me to feel completely alone in my own mind.  He allowed me to feel helpless, weak, and out of control.

This is the part of God that some find troubling (including myself sometimes).  But God wasn't sitting in heaven on a comfy chair, zapping his hands at me, and making me suffer through this pain.  He was allowing me to experience this pain, knowing all along that He would bring me out of it and I would come out of it a better person.  In the end, I would be benefitting from it.  I'm certainly not wanting to get into any kind of theological debate over God's sovereignty, existence, goodness, etc.  I'm simply telling you my story.

I also don't want to debate the issue of anxiety and chemical imbalances.  I truly do believe they exist and I believe people truly do suffer from anxiety.  And yes, medication does help.  While I did have the classic panic attack/anxiety symptoms, I don't believe that diagnosis was the end of it.   I could've been okay with it, decided I was now someone with anxiety, taken my Xanax, and continued on with life.  But something was not right about that.  I could feel it.  There was a deeper problem - a spiritual problem.  I don't doubt I was experiencing anxiety.  But I do believe that the outpouring of this pain came from a longing and emptiness in my soul.

All of it was so terrible and so painful.  But it was all so worth it.  I was supposed to uncover all of this truth about God and myself.

I sat there that night crying, reading through my journal, and thanking the Lord through prayer.  It was as if a cool breeze had fallen on my entire body and a huge burden had been lifted.  I was free and the pain was gone.  Gone.

When Colt walked out of the bathroom, I told him he wouldn't believe what I just read.  I shared these entries with him and my thoughts on the whole thing.  We both sat there in awe.  It was quiet for a second.  Then, I looked up at Colt and said, "But would God really allow all of this to happen to me and for me to feel so much pain just so I could realize these things?"  And he said, "Yes.  That's how much He loves you."  My eyes were filled with tears as I thought about this love that I had blocked out of certain parts of my heart.  I had finally let it all in.

On top of all of this, a few days before the craziness began, Colt told me to read James 4.  He had read it and thought I should too.  Naturally, I found other more important things to do so I never got around to it.  This night, I read it.  How perfectly it fit in.  

James 4:8  Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.

That night, I fell asleep praying.  I fell asleep feeling like the Spirit of God was wrapped around me like a blanket.  Like I could never escape it.  And I didn't want to escape it.  This was home.

So, how am I currently?  Well, I still host mini anxiety battles in my heart and body.  The only difference is that I'm not scared.  And, praise the Lord, they have not been painful.  Ever since my revelation that night, the pain has completely disappeared.  These little moments of anxiety that creep in remind me that I am not ultimately in control of my body or anything else that happens in my days.  They also remind me to pray, journal, listen, read scripture, and think.  What is it that I'm not seeing, God?  That is now my prayer almost every day.  

Because I don't know the future, I have no idea if all of this panic and anxiety will ever hit me really badly again like it did those 4-5 days.   If it happens again, though, I'll know who to turn to.  And I think that's the point of this whole thing.  I was always turning to me.

Sharing this story on my blog has been a huge blessing.  It was just too good to not share.  It was a perfect example of God's goodness and healing in my life (and still is).  And to those of you who read all of this, thank you so much.  I hope you'll keep reading as I plan to write one more post on some specific things I learned throughout this whole experience.  

So, technically, this is the end of the story.  But really, I feel like it's only just begun. 

the draw - xanax

(To catch up on this story, start here.)

("Xanax" by Maria Taylor - one of my favorites)

Monday morning, the 23rd, I woke up even weaker than the day before.  I survived Duke's waketime and as soon as he went down for his morning nap, so did I.  I wasn't that tired but I didn't want to be awake.  Being awake means you feel it all.  You feel your pain and you have to deal with your thoughts.  I wanted to escape, so I slept.  I remember thinking, this is how I'm going to live the rest of my life.  I'm just going to sleep through it.  This is why depressed and anxious people just sleep.  It felt like a death sentence.

Duke woke up to eat lunch and it took everything in me to get him fed.  I had already asked Colt to come home early that day, but I needed him sooner.  I told him that I shouldn't be here alone with Duke, in case something happened to me.  I asked him to make me an appointment with his doctor since I didn't have one.  They initially scheduled me for the next day, but with another call and a sudden opening, we luckily got in that afternoon.

My mom and dad came over around the time that Colt got home from work.  They volunteered to stay at home with Duke so Colt and I could go to the appointment.  Waiting until 3:45 to see the doctor seemed like an eternity.

Like the rest of the story, my blood pressure and heart rate were normal.  I told him my symptoms and at one point, he started naming some on his own.  He said it sounded like a panic attack and anxiety.  It was textbook.  He asked if I had experienced any huge changes in my life and I really hadn't.  He asked about motherhood and postpartum depression and I told him I've already been there, done that.  I knew that none of this was related to being a new mom.

The doctor was kind and assured me that it's normal for anxiety like this to just pop up out of nowhere. It's normal to be prescribed Xanax.  It's normal to just take it when needed and at some point, maybe not need it anymore.  Everything was normal.  Although it was nice to hear I wasn't dying, there was still something unsettling about all of this.  Sure, I was displaying all the symptoms of panic attacks and anxiety.  But I was not okay with being prescribed a pill that I might actually need every single day.

Xanax.  I mean, I'd heard of it.  But wasn't that just for crazy people with crazy problems?  Evidently not. 

He took some blood so he could check on a few other things and told me he'd call the next day.  I was relieved to hear that.  He mentioned it could be a thyroid issue or an electrolytes issue.  In my heart, I was jumping up and down, raising my hand, saying, "Yes!  I want one of those issues!  I'll take it!"  I wanted a tangible problem that you could see in an x-ray or a blood test.

My parents stayed at the house that evening with us.  They made us a yummy meal and returned our kitchen back to normal when it was done.  It was such a blessing to me that day.

That night, I was in desperate need of some good sleep so I decided to take a Xanax.  I did not want a repeat of the night before.

At this point in the story, I was thinking this is what my life would be like forever - waking up in pain and just surviving the day only to fall asleep whenever I possibly could.  My joy and my freedom had been taken from me.  All the good I had known in my life was suddenly impossible to see.

I fell asleep but woke up several times in the night.  It was rough.  I felt like I was wrestling with something all night - like something would not leave me alone.  I found out what that "something" was the next night.

the draw - shaking like a leaf

(To catch up on this story, start here.)

On Sunday morning, the 22nd, Colt had to play guitar for a church in Norman so I was on my own with Duke.  I fed Duke and while he played after breakfast, I curled up on the floor in a ball watching him.  I wasn't feeling terrible, but I certainly wasn't back to normal.  I was weak and frail.  I knew I just needed to survive until Colt got home.

We had planned to swim one last time at my parents' house that afternoon since they were closing on their house the next morning.  It was good that we spent the day with them because it kept me occupied.  The burning in my chest was still off and on, but at least it wasn't getting out of hand.  Being in the pool seemed to distract me just enough.  That night, we hung out with some friends.  Again, it was nice to be doing something other that sitting and dwelling on my issues.

We got home that evening and put Duke to bed.  As Colt and I were settling into our bed, I felt my heart racing and pounding.  It was getting worse and I felt myself getting more and more anxious about the fact that it was getting worse.  Suddenly, it was as if a huge bucket of cold water was dumped on my feet.  I shot out of bed and said, "I'm not okay, Colt."  As I said this, my fingers began to tingle and my limbs were becoming numb.

Colt followed me as I walked out of our room and into the living room.  I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but I couldn't stay in bed.  I did feel a bit hungry so I got some crackers and water, thinking that may cure this week feeling.

But nothing was helping.  As I brought the crackers and the glass of water up to my mouth, I noticed something.  My shakiness was no longer subtle.  Within a few minutes, my entire body was shaking uncontrollably.  It was absolutely involuntary and no thinking, breathing, or eating was going to change anything.  All control was out of my hands.

I sat there, confused and scared.  My body was hunched over and my eyes were glued to the floor.  I have been completely abandoned, I thought.  The shaking was becoming more dramatic so I started to pray out loud.  With tears streaming down my face, I said, "Jesus, Jesus," over and over again.  I had nothing else to say but His name.  I had nothing.

For a moment, I got a vision of what I looked like on my couch - as if I was on the other side of the room watching.  This person I was looking at was so weak.  She was so helpless and small.  What had happened to her?  One minute she was a stable human being and the next, she had lost all control.

I told Colt I wanted to take the medicine the ER doctor gave me, which was something I hadn't let myself do yet.  After I took it, he held me on the couch until it kicked in.  I began feeling fuzzy and drowsy.  

Colt woke me up so we could go back into our bedroom.  I told him I needed his help to put me back to sleep.  I was afraid of being still in the darkness.  I was afraid of the quiet and where my thoughts might take me.  I was afraid of what my body might do.  So he ran his fingers slowly across my arms and back until I fell asleep.  Finally ... peace.

(I promise - I'm not dragging this out on purpose.  I just want to be detailed in my account.  The end is coming so keep reading!)

the draw - a visit to the ER

(To catch up on this story, start here.)

We woke up July 21st and Colt made a nice big breakfast.  We put Duke down for his morning nap and enjoyed our food while watching Grey's.  This was starting out to be a typical Saturday morning.

The feelings from the night before gradually started creeping in again mid-morning.  I felt my heart start pounding, my hands get shaky, and I found myself needing to take really deep breaths.  It was like I was breathing through a giant straw.  Not this again, I thought.  I told Colt it was happening.  We sat on the couch and I just tried my best to relax and breathe.

It persisted throughout the rest of the morning and in the afternoon it really began to escalate.  We put Duke down for his afternoon nap and I told Colt that once he woke up and ate, I needed to go to the hospital.  I called my parents, crying, saying that something wasn't okay with me.  We called Colt's dad and while he didn't think anything was physically wrong with my heart, he said if I felt like I needed to go to the ER, then I should.

In the midst of these phone calls, everything was getting worse.  I was tingly, shaky, feeling a hot/cold sensation in my chest, and having trouble breathing.  Leaving after Duke's nap was not an option.  We needed to leave now.  

The trip to the hospital was one of the worst moments in my life.  15 minutes felt like an hour.  My mind was racing with thoughts like, What if I'm dying?  What will Colt and Duke do without me?  What's going to happen?  What if something is seriously wrong with me?  What if my life is never the same?  I was so scared.

I spent the whole day rubbing and holding my chest so when I walked into the ER, the receptionist didn't hesitate to ask calmly, "Chest pain?"  Yes.  Chest pain.  I was crying and could hardly get my name, number, and address out of my mouth.  

In an attempt to prevent the nurse from thinking oh, here comes another one of those panic attack patients, I told her that I am never sick and I never go to the doctor.  In other words, I'm not just coming to the ER for kicks and giggles.  I also told her that all of this started while watching "The Dark Knight Rises."  She tilted her head, put her lips together, and nodded.  It was as if I was the 50th person to say that to her.  I didn't love that reaction, but she was otherwise kind and she was helping me, so I didn't let it upset me.  

She quickly got my blood pressure and heart rate.  They were fine.  Again.  Although that was good news, I wanted there to be something immediately wrong.  I wanted a fix for my body.

We sat in the waiting room and I decided to go ahead and nurse Duke before our name was called.  Nursing a squirmy 9 month old in public when you think you're dying is something I'd never wish upon anyone.  However, it gave me something to do.

My name was called and I couldn't get to the doctor fast enough.  They listened to me explain my symptoms and they said it sounded like a panic attack/anxiety.  I thought this was odd since it'd been almost 24 hours.  Do panic attacks really last that long?

They monitored my heart rate and checked my blood pressure again.  Still normal.  The EKG was normal.  The chest x-ray was normal.  Everything was normal ... except me.  Even as they assured me everything was fine, the pain in my chest increased.  I felt so lost.  They gave me a shot of something that was supposed to calm me down.  It didn't do much, so it was followed with a GI cocktail.  It wasn't long before I felt calmer and the burning in my chest subsided.  They prescribed Hydroxyzine for me to take when necessary and I was on my way.

I couldn't believe this.  Have I really been diagnosed with anxiety?  Does something like this just pop up on someone out of the blue?  I didn't want to believe it.  And I wasn't really okay with it.  But at the moment, I didn't care.  I just wanted to feel like my normal self.  We spent the rest of the day with my family at my brother's house.  It was a good distraction and it was comforting to be with them.

Before going to bed that night, Colt and I had a little chat on the couch.  He asked me if I had asked God for this.  That's an odd question, I thought, and the answer was definitely no.  But there was a part of me that felt like something about this had to do with God.  I explained to Colt that I have felt like there was a wall that I just couldn't get over for the past few years.  A wall that was keeping me from where I needed to be and who I needed to be.  But I didn't know how to get there.  I didn't know how to get to the other side of this wall.  I cried and we prayed for answers.

Looking back, the past two days had been horribly painful and depressing.  Aside from the physical pain I was feeling all over my body, my mental state was taking a beating as well.  I had basically been told that I had experienced a panic attack and been given medicine to "fix" myself when the anxiety came back.  One day I was doing great and the next I had to take a pill to feel okay.  This didn't settle well in my mind or my heart.  What was wrong with me?

There was this overarching heaviness on my soul.  This was the very definition of anxiety.  I wasn't truly present in any moment that day and I wasn't able to enjoy anything - time with Duke, time with Colt, a good meal, nothing.  It was all laced with a deep anxiety and sadness that was weaving throughout my entire being.  I was overcome by it.

Even though my mind was reeling that night, I managed to fall asleep.  

Would tomorrow be the same?  Would it be a new day?  I was hoping for a fresh start but had a feeling I wouldn't be so lucky.

the draw - panic at the theatre

(To catch up on this story, start here.)

(image source)

We were sitting in the theatre, waiting for "The Dark Knight Rises" to start.  I noticed during the previews that something hit me.  My heart felt like it was racing and pounding out of my chest.  And it didn't stop.  About 30 minutes into the movie I told Colt that I just didn't feel right.  I went to the restroom, just to see if I could calm down.  Nothing was changing.  Was it the candy and coke?  Was I just really hungry and weak?  Was it that dream* I had?  Was I on edge because of Aurora?

(*I had a dream two nights before this that a certain man I knew passed away.  This was not a relative or even a friend, but a very distant acquaintance.  This man happened to be in the movie that night.  It was a little weird.)

I wasn't sure what was going on but I knew I was not okay.

I went back into the theatre and continued to watch the movie, feeling incredibly uneasy.  About 30 minutes before the movie ended, I told Colt I needed to leave the theatre and I needed him to come with me.

So, there we were in the lobby of the movie theatre.  I was pacing and walking circles while talking to Sara (who is a nurse) on the phone.  I truly thought something was wrong with my heart.  I told her how I felt and all of the things I thought it could be.  She assured me that I was probably fine, but that I should pray in case there was something I needed to say to that man (the man I had the dream about).  

In the meantime, I had a pretty upset husband.  I had just dragged him out of a movie he was really excited to see.  And I'll admit, most of the time, I live my life more on the dramatic/emotional side.  He thought I was just being crazy.

After I got off the phone with Sara, I told Colt what she said.  We went outside and I began to pray out loud as we walked around.  I started to cry, feeling so helpless.  God, please tell me what I need to do right now.  What is it that I'm supposed to do?  Why do I feel like this?  Do you want me to say something to this man?

There was nothing.  I heard and felt absolutely nothing.

I was frantic.  I was frantic in a way that was foreign to me.  It was like nothing else I'd ever experienced in my life.  It was like getting ready to go onto the stage to play my senior piano recital plus feeling like the world was ending plus knowing a bomb was about to go off and I was responsible for everyone around me.  And that's putting it lightly.  I was nervous and full of panic, anxiety, and urgency.  I was shaky, weak, and my chest was starting to burn.  I was miserable and I had no idea why.

We went ahead to dinner with our friends after the movie.  I sat there, trying my best to listen and be a part of the conversation.  But all I could think about was how terrible I felt.  I had an extra sensitivity to everything going on in my body, as if it was all magnified - like the whole restaurant could hear the blood pumping through my body.  I was so uncomfortable.  I attempted to eat a bit, but was not hungry at all.

Colt and I got home and I talked more with Sara about everything.  (She was at our house watching Duke.)  She took my blood pressure and my heart rate.  Both were fine.  This was unbelievable.  I knew something was wrong with me, but what?  I stayed up and talked with her about it and by the end of the night I felt a little better.  I felt good enough to fall asleep at least.

I put my head on my pillow and thought tomorrow would be a new day.  I'd wake up and this whole thing would be gone and over with.  I couldn't have been more wrong.

the draw - the backstory

Well, you may have noticed that I haven't done a "hey-here's-what-i'm-doing-in-my-life-lately" kind of post in awhile.  That's because what's happened in my life lately is something I've been trying to wrap my mind around for days.  Instead of journaling and keeping it to myself, I want to share it.  It may take two posts, it may take eight.  I don't know.  I just know I want to remember it.

My one request is that you please read it until the end.  I believe part of the reason this crazy thing has happened to me is so I can share it.

And the last thing:  this story involves talk of Jesus, God, and the Holy Spirit.  Whether or not those three beings fill you with overwhelming joy, fuming anger, or complete apathy, please read.  Regardless of what you believe, you will find truth in my story because, well, it really did happen to me.

So, here's the first installment.

Leading up to this point in my life, I'd say my understanding of God was a bit off.  Growing up in church and becoming a Christian at the age of 6, I knew what I believed.  But lately, I'd only believed it at a surface level.  I hadn't felt extremely in tune with God.  I didn't feel like a lot of my prayers were going anywhere.  I didn't feel like someone was on the other side of those prayers listening and caring.  It wasn't that I questioned the existence of God.  I knew he existed and I knew he cared for people.  But when it came to me, maybe he was just too busy.  I began to believe that God was just too big for me.  Or maybe I was just too small for Him.  Either way, it wasn't working out the way I thought it should.  And it certainly wasn't feeling the way I thought it should.  I was stuck.

Last summer, a friend of mine told me about a book called "A Praying Life."  I knew this was what I needed.  My prayer life was nonexistant and when I did pray, it seemed like nothing was happening.  It was almost as if I had forgotten what prayer was.  What was the purpose?  How do you do it?  Why do you do it?  I bought the book and it sat on a shelf in my room for several months.

I finally started reading it in June.  I told myself I'd read a chapter a day.  I was soaking it up like crazy!  These were the words, explanations, and encouragements I needed to hear.  It was like this book was written for me.  I underlined it like a mad woman and wrote out my prayers in my journal.

A month or two before I started reading this book, I had a dream.  (And I believe dreams can mean something.)  I had a dream that in July 2012 something was going to change for us - something big.  And July 20th was the exact date I had in my head.  At the time I had the dream, I told Colt about it.  We let our minds wander, thinking of all the fun and extravagant things it could mean.  It was kind of exciting.  What would July 2012 hold for us?

Well, July 20th came.  Of course, at the time, I had completely forgotten about the dream and had certainly forgotten about the specific day.

We were out on a triple date with two of our favorite couples.  Since our band baby boom, this was the first time we'd all hung out without children.  I was literally counting down the days until this date.  We all put it on our calendars, got babysitters, and made plans.  Little did I know that a terrifying journey was in store for me that evening.

(More to come ...)