Hopefully Now I'm Found

Trying to find a title for this post is causing me grief. I don't even know where to begin, so I will just begin with... I feel lost. I haven't written in ages, we have gone through a huge journey. We won our greatest battle, it only took a little more than six years. Paul is a resident, we got everything we prayed so hard for. God literally carried me all the way through those six years; providing me with the perfect coworkers, family, church friends, non-church friends, old friends. God put so many people in our path, like stepping stones that get you from the driveway to the bottom of the steps leading into your house. My goal was to get to the bottom step. And, I was so enthralled with everything going on in the battle that I didn't even see the size of the staircase I had to climb. I don't think anyone knows what the top of the staircase looks like. What it means to finally reach...what? Perfection, the end, the "finally we can breathe", happily ever after. Forgive me for sounding so negative, I am just trying to find some ground to stand on so that I may actually begin to write what all is on my mind. I believe that the top of the staircase comes when we conquer Satan once and for all and get to be with our Heavenly Father for all of eternity. I just didn't realize until late how difficult that is. Not that it is difficult for God to love me, or forgive me, that was all done with Jesus on the Cross. But, how difficult it is for me to accept that love, forgiveness, mercy, grace because I know that I am not worthy. I am a big fat sinner and I have a tendency to let Satan get the best of me. I am going to be very frank here. Honesty is all I have ever been. If I have ever lied it has been by omission, I am the world's worst liar, actually. I always wished that I could be the quiet, shy girl. Mysterious and full of secrets. I'm not. Actually, I can't seem to keep my mouth shut, and even when I try my face tells everything that I am thinking and feeling. I am about as transparent as the glasses on my face. I suffer from anxiety, depression and obsessive compulsive disorder. I take medication daily, and it is great when I do. I am able to think straight, work hard, and get through life without everything being so magnified and dramatic. It does take away a lot of things, however. It is very hard for me to write, and I love to write. I can't draw anymore, my creativity is completely shut off. It affects intimacy to a certain degree. But, I choose to take my medication over all of these things, because it makes me balanced and I can actually breathe when I am medicated. Without my daily dose, I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest, I cry over everything, and well the OCD part of it is ridiculous. So, how am I writing tonight? Well I forgot to take the stupid pill yesterday and then again this morning. I took it as soon as we got back home this evening. And, everything is okay, no depression. But my brain is working overtime, Satan is trying to win a battle because he knows I am vulnerable. I won't let him gain control though. I will write instead and show him who is boss. The step that I am stuck on now is a very difficult one. I wish I could draw it for you because it isn't just a marble step with perfect dimensions that I just have to step off of. Actually, I kind of feel like Alice and I have eaten a delicious truffle with a little note that said, "eat me". And now I have shrunk and I am standing on the very first step that happens to be made of wood. And, I am so tiny that I actually have to climb over each little splinter that fabricates that slab of wood making the first step. You see, I am stuck at a point in my life where nothing of my past matters. Ok, some of it does. But it is all irrelevant because it is all gone. I for one am not the same. My parents aren't the same, my sister isn't the same, my precious brother is still kind of the same, but not really. I don't have a "home" to go to anymore, to take my children and show them where I grew up. Someone else is living there now. I have disappeared to those that I once called friends. I can't even see their names, or their lives. I can't see pictures of home without a deep depression welling up inside. And, to some this may sound so trivial and so vain. So selfish and stupid. But I am completely lost. I had everything. I had so much that it made me rotten. Seriously. First, how do I forgive myself? I was a terrible teenager. I was selfish, I was rude, I was boastful, I was promiscuous, I was mean, I was fake, I was a follower, I was a loser. I had no faith, I was a liar and a fraud. I am embarrassed and ashamed when I look back on that time. I could have been so different, but I let so many things control my way of thinking. I was, in simple terms, a brat. And, what is even worse is I had amazing parents. Who did the best that they could to instill good morals and values in their three children. They tried to give us all that they didn't have, yet teach us at the same time to be good, honest, hard working people. They loved us in such an amazing way. And, I turned on them. They could control so much, but they couldn't control the decisions that I made, they friends I chose, the idiots I dated. They were strict, and I was sneaky. I always get stuck in this rut. I always look back and dwell on my regrets. But, now it isn't the pity party, sob-fest for Jessie. Now it is whose life did I influence? Who did I hurt? Do I really think that much of myself that I think that I was that influential on someone else's life? You are dang right I do. No, I don't think I was popular or even a leader; I wasn't someone many people looked up too or ever followed, but I was poisonous. I was venomous, and I am sure that I share that with at least of couple of people that didn't deserve it. I know of four friends for certain, they were all Christ followers and I brought so much poison into the circle. If it weren't for those friends I would have never known Jesus personally. They were the water and the sun to a seed that my parents planted when I was a small child. These friends gave me just what I needed in order for that sapling to survive through a six year drought. And, I see that two of these friends have moved along just fine, but the other two seem to struggle. So, what do I do? I pray. I ask for forgiveness, from God. Do I ask them for forgiveness? Or am I a big ol chicken? Next, how do I forgive "her"? "Her"? Who is "her"? "Her" is the person who snatched everything out from under my family. It seemed to happen in a weeks time, but come to find out "her" was working on things for quite some time. "Her" schemed and planned everything over a good ten month period, if not longer. "Her" deceived the one family who loved "her" and the family she conceived during "her" time with us. You see "her" wasn't just part of my Dad's payroll. No one was every just an employee. Everyone was family, even if they left, found something that paid better, retired. It didn't matter, if you worked at the office you were family. "Her" became family, too. And now, I forgive "her" every single day. Every time I talk to my sister, I forgive "her". Every time I talk to my parents, I forgive "her". The Outer Banks comes up on facebook, or on the news, the weather channel; I forgive "her". "Her" consumes me right now because if I don't tell myself everyday to forgive, then I will hate. And, hate is Satan winning. I recently read an amazing book, "The Devil in Pew Number 7". I am so very grateful that I did not lose my parents in my situation. The book made me see that it could be much worse. I did however learn a great deal about forgiveness. A choice that I have to make, every single day, until it because second nature to me. It is just so much easier to forgive the guy who cut me off in traffic, or the rude customer who cussed me out because he did have the proper ID, and therefore I couldn't give my teller permission to cash her check. These things I blow off everyday. But, when someone takes advantage of the people you love most. When someone takes everything just like that, and looks at you when you have hard evidence right there and says "is that all you have?", when they know that there is so much more in the tangled mess they so carefully created. When it causes my father to suffer from major weight loss, premature aging, debilitating depression, a heart attack....When it is slowly killing him, the strongest man I ever knew. The man with all the answers, the man that could fix any problem, the man that never let anyone tell him he couldn't do anything. How in God's name do I forgive "her"? How do I not loathe "her"? Last, how do I keep these things from seeping into my precious family? My sweet boys, amazing husband. How do I keep them safe from the sin that Satan so badly wants me to commit? We have found an amazing church here in Miami. Similar to Mecklenburg Community Church. No one will ever be as awesome as our pastor from Meck, but CF is pretty dang awesome. We had our first small group today, Parenting. It was like a much needed therapy session. No I didn't share anything, I didn't get to enjoy the comfort of one of those soft couches, and I didn't even need a box of tissue. Questions were asked, and thoughts provoked. You see we were listening to the first installment of Parental Guidance Required. How do we be the parents that God intended us to be? And, it really threw me for a loop. I mean, WOW! I am a product of my wonderful mother. I crave control and I am proud to say that as of right now I have two very good little boys. Whether it be my learned skills of controlling their small world, as chaotic as it has been or if God has just blessed me with unbelievable good kids, I am not sure. All I do know is, I have a lot of learning to do. Control didn't work with me after about age 16. I found my way around it. And, kids will be kids; the kids of this next generation sure to be much smarter and more deceiving than I ever thought to be. Scary. I am seeing now after typing all of this out that there is hope. I have to learn to let go of the things I obsess over and learn to walk forward toward the light. I have to stop taking Satan's bait, ie. little chocolate's that say "eat me". Yes, the steps ahead of me will be challenging. Once we get off of this stair we will only be on a new one; with someone else to forgive, some other obstacle to hurdle. I just wish I could see what's coming next, so I can prepare. The phone rings and I am terrified of the news the other end may have. I am scared to death that God will take someone before they are ready, before they can see the truth. And, I guess I need to not just choose to forgive daily but also choose to surrender daily. I can't hold they weight of these burdens on my own, I can't even ponder the thought of their weight without crumbling. Does anyone ever has this feeling; first, the tremendous fear of death and then in the same instance a calm and reassurance that it will all be ok? I have that a lot, I know it is Satan trying and God knocking him down before that thought can become an obsession in my very fragile mind. That is kind of how this post has come out. Fear, fear, worry, fear, sob, sob, sob...and...reassurance. God has this. I just have to pray my way through this next journey. I have to constantly be moving forward, forgiving and surrendering. Surrendering and forgiving. I have to worry less and trust more. I have to love even when I really want to hate. I have to work so much harder at loving those that I hate than I do those that I love. Isn't that what Christ did? God have mercy on them for they know not what they do? Something like that. I need to read more of my Bible, I can't even put that in quotes because I think I may have botched it. Please pray for my family. We need it. Especially now. Pray for peace, understanding, spiritual growth, the ability to forgive, and the ability to surrender all things to God. I know there is so much more to pray for, but these are the top five. Thank you for all of your support and love, once again God has put you all here with purpose and I am forever grateful.

Waiting

Well we have been here in the US for just over a year now and we are still alive and kickin! We have been through a lot while here; mostly illnesses, if the boys are exposed to it they get it! Also, I lost my mother-in-law this past October which is something I am still not able to accept. I wasn't able to be there with her in her last days and I didn't hug her enough before we left. I just didn't think it possible for her to leave us so soon. God has blessed us with an awesome church family. I found this hispanic ministry shortly after we can and they have been my rock! I also have an awesome work family. Without these people in my life I wouldn't be able to make it everyday. God has placed these amazing people in my life and I couldn't be more grateful! We are still moving forward, but somedays I feel helpless, like I can't take another step forward. I miss my husband more than I ever thought possible and somedays it really pulls me to depths I didn't know existed. I have been building the case of extreme hard ship while here and I am going to attach my letter so that you can all see and give me some feedback. There are a lot of grammatical mistakes, but its already out. I really could care less because I can't even read it anymore, it makes me go cross eyed. This letter is a skeleton of our story, there is so much more. I left Jesus out of it mostly because if I put Him in there it would become a novel. One day I will fill this skeleton with the meat that needs to be told! My testimony. I just know that we aren't there yet and I want to see where God takes us before I go assuming He will take us where I want to go instead of where He intends for us to go. At the end of this visa process I will wrap up that part of our lives and we will begin a new book! For now we continue to wait. Wait and pray. Our process for Paul's visa will start very soon and we need all the prayers we can get! "Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD." Psalm 27:14 (NIV) My Letter To Whom It May Concern: This is my formal letter showing that I am living under extreme hardship without the presence of my husband. I think that it may be best that I start from the beginning so that you can see the full effect that this is having on our family. Paul and I first met in July of 2005. I had been on the teller line at Bank of America for maybe a week when a stunningly handsome Latino man walked into my banking center. After greeting him and running his transaction the man left, but his face, sweet accent and “that smile” were stuck in my head. Paul Sanchez would come in every Tuesday and Thursday to make deposits into his business account, and I was always prepared. Tuesdays and Thursdays I would be dressed; hair done and make-up on. I wanted to impress him. Paul suddenly started bringing flowers from his wholesale business almost every visit. Then he made the first move coming through the drive-thru after hours to ask me to dinner. Unfortunately, I had to turn him down. I was in a three year long relationship and I really couldn’t be unfaithful. This continued throughout the year and into the next year. Paul would come and we would flirt, but I would turn him down. Suddenly, he stopped coming and I missed my favorite customer and his amazing smile. I let it go though, and focused on my long distance relationship with someone who had other things in mind for our relationship. One day Paul returned, to my surprise and asked me to go to a concert with him. Once again, I had to turn him down, but this time I got his phone number. Only weeks later my long distant boyfriend of three years ended our relationship. I was heart broken, and didn’t want to be with anyone. After two months of sulking, I decided I was ready to move on. I had my roommate call my handsome customer and ask him to go dancing with us at the hottest Salsa club in Charlotte. He accepted my invitation and I was so nervous I didn’t think I’d make it. That evening Paul showed up with his girlfriend. Again, I was heartbroken. He would sneak away to find me throughout the night and we would chat. He promised to come see me at the bank again as it had been months since he’d been in. The following week he came to the bank at closing time and we had out first formal date, dinner at a little hole in the wall in Gastonia. This moved forward slowly, at first. He broke up with his girlfriend and we started dating steadily. In August 2006, Paul’s mother, brother, sister-in-law, and three nephews traveled from Ecuador to visit. I was so excited to meet them, and learn more about this man I was surely falling in love with. I didn’t understand a durn thing anyone was saying the entire time they were here and it was quite comical. However, I fell as in love with his family as I was with him. His family met my family, they accompanied my to a family reunion and we were making steps forward in this relationship at a much quicker pace. After Paul’s family left we had a serious talk. Paul wanted to tell me something that I could tell was very difficult for him to talk about. We sat outside and with embarrassment Paul explained his immigration situation. He had come into the country with his visa, however it had expired a year or so before and he was living in this country out of status. He waited for my response with anticipation, I’m sure wondering if this self-proclaimed, politically conservative woman would get up and walk out. My response, “Ok.” This bit of news couldn’t have swayed my heart any distance away. We would deal with this situation when the time was appropriate. This brought us closer, as we shared a secret now that was very personal for him. I left my job at the bank and started working with Paul in his wholesale business. I still had my apartment about 30 minutes from his, but I had basically moved in with him. We went to see my family at the beach after news that my dad had had a small heart attack and needed a stint. We had a great visit, Paul got to know my Mom, Dad, sister and brother even better and it was nice to have him with me during this difficult trip for moral support. On the way home we had seven hours to talk about all sorts of things. The thing we talked about just an hour into our trip was marriage. In the remaining six hours we decided that we would get married in the next month. Almost three weeks later his mom sent me a gift with some friends visiting from Ecuador. It was days before the day we had picked to be married. She has sent my engagement ring. I was shocked, yet I felt so happy because it was a great sign that his mother had approved. September 30th, 2006 we eloped and got married at the magistrate’s office in Charlotte. My family was not exactly thrilled about our quick nuptials, we had only dated four months and they hardly knew him. I knew him though and I was happily married to that sexy Latino man that had walked into my branch and stole my heart with the first smile. Our first year of marriage was difficult. The business slowly dwindled down; as the economy was starting to suffer and flowers were the last thing people were worrying about paying for. I had returned to banking in the end of 2006 with BB&T as a personal banker and Paul tried everything possible to keep the business going. After Mother’s Day 2007 Paul decided to sell his business and look for something else to do as far as work. We had delayed starting our petitions and other paperwork to get his immigration status fixed, we didn’t see it being something that needed to be taken care of ASAP and we didn’t have the money to pay for it at the time. When the business was sold we decided to use part of those funds to start my petition for Paul and to pay someone to help us do it. We were moving forward in our paper work when I decided that I would like to move back to the beach to be closer to my family as we had no real ties here with the business sold. I did what I need to in order to get transferred within BB&T’s footprint and we were moved by the end of August. We were still waiting on some sort of answer from immigration. Paul couldn’t find work because he didn’t have the legal status to work, and things were tough on one income. These things caused much stress on our marriage and we looked to a family psychologist for help I our understanding what our roles were in our marriage and how we could survive a marriage in a world where divorce is almost if not more popular. What came next changed everything. Three weeks after moving to the Outer Banks to be closer to my family we received a devastating phone call. Paul’s mother, Elsi had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She had been given three weeks to three months to live. I suddenly saw my husband heartbroken, his bright smile gone, and his eyes with a look of pure horror. Paul’s father had died when Paul was only one year old; he’d never known him. His mother took role of both mother and father, as she never remarried and she lived her life for her two sons. Paul was losing both his mother and father, all he’d ever know and quickly. He hadn’t been home in ten years and he longed to be there with his mother. Quickly I made a decision that I would accompany him to Ecuador and we would take care of his mother together. We had to act quickly and together to make things go as smoothly as possible. I had my leave of absence taken care of immediately so that we could get on the road without jeopardizing my job. We had to travel to Washington DC to get my passport same day and we needed to get to the immigration office to ask advice as to what we were to do about our pending petition. When we got to DC we learned that we had to go to the immigration office as early as possible to see someone. We waited in line all morning to see if we could get an answer as to what to do. When we were called forward we spoke with a woman who seemed very friendly and willing to help us out. She listened as Paul explained the situation with his mother and the fact that we needed to leave at our earliest convenience so that we could be with her. The woman told us not to worry. She couldn’t see any advancement in our paperwork, but to go ahead with our travels and take care of his mother. She said that we could have our paperwork transferred to Guayaquil, Ecuador to the consulates office and continue from there. We thanked her and left. We were on our way out of the country within 48 hours. We arrived in Ecuador on October 3rd, 2007. We were scared of what we were looking at, as far as his mother’s diagnosis, treatment, and how these things would affect her. A week after we arrived we went to the embassy in Quito so that I could check in and so that we could ask about having our papers transferred and continue the process of getting Paul a valid visa. On that day we were looked at like we were complete idiots and told that they didn’t know what we were talking about. That if we had left the US in the middle of our paperwork than it was considered abandoned and we would have to start all over. Then we were told if we had any other questions we would need to make another appointment. They didn’t want to listen to another thing I had to say and they were done with what they had to say. I was absolutely infuriated. Isn’t the US embassy supposed to be of some help to it’s citizens. I learned that day that that is not the case. There is no special circumstance or helping a citizen in need. It was decided then that I would go back to the US on my return flight. I was only going to be there until the end of November and then I would return home to work for a few months. In my almost two months there we help Elsi start a special diet said to get rid of this tumor that consisted of eating only raw fruits and vegetables and taking all sorts of supplements. This was said to clean out the system and it was the treatment choice she chose. I was hospitalized in the beginning of November due to a bacterial infection and my family back in the US was worried sick. Come November we were all glad that I had returned home. I was about twenty pounds lighter from the infection that caused vomiting and diarrhea. I went back to work and missed my husband terribly. We didn’t know about Skype or any other ways of communication where we could keep contact on a daily basis so we spoke through email and through the occasional phone call. I made yet another decision after a month without my husband that I would leave my job and return to Ecuador to live with my husband in the end of December. I enjoyed every moment I had with my parents through Christmas and then anxiously returned to my husband. I returned to Ecuador to spend all of my time with my mother-in-law as my husband had to work in order for us to afford the simple yet expensive costs of living. After going with my mother-in-law to church I met a couple that worked for a private school and they voiced their need for an English teacher. I took the job immediately and started working with the missionary group to teach English to these already bilingual students. Two months after starting work Paul and I received the greatest news we could ever receive. I was pregnant with our first child. I continued going to work, but two weeks after our discovery I fell extremely ill. I was vomiting seven to eight times a day and even through the night. I went for my first prenatal check-up and was told that I had elevated hormone levels and this was most likely causing the constant vomiting. There was no medication they could give me and they wanted to take me off of the depression and anxiety I was on as well for the safety of the baby. I had been taking this medicine for two years already and it was going to be a struggle to come off. After weeks of not being able to eat and anything I did eat coming back up I was losing weight at a rapid pace. Then I started having diarrhea and sharp abdominal pains with landed me back in the hospital where I was treated for a bacterial infection in my intestines. I was there for four days and I developed an infection from the IV that was placed incorrectly in my left arm. When I was released from the hospital we decided that it would be best for me to return home. I had lost a total of twenty-five pounds and if I became anymore malnourished we risked losing our baby. We started the process once again to get my husbands visa. Around the beginning of June I returned to the States with plans to have my baby with my family. I started working to pay my expenses and was forced to turn the government assistance as I didn’t have any form of health care and it was very difficult for me to work full time. I received Medicaid and WIC in order to help ensure my health and the health of my baby were first. Being away from my husband had caused me severe depression and anxiety, as I feared what bond my baby may be missing out on with his father. I also struggled with what my husband was missing out on as far as being a part of the pregnancy. I went to the doctor and was put on a milder for of anti-depression medication, but was told that it would not help with the obsessive-compulsive disorder that I had been diagnosed with years before. Paul and I discovered Skype, which helped a lot, but it was never sufficient. He couldn’t feel this baby moving inside of me by touching my belly, and he couldn’t sing or read to our baby. I went and got permission for my husband to be present for the birth via Skype while we waited for our waiver to be processed, hoping that we would receive his visa before the birth. I continued to have serious issues with vomiting and keeping food down. I had no appetite due to the nausea, stress and depression. I went to talk with our family therapist and she tried her best to help me work through these depression and obsession issues. Thanksgiving came and I was severely ill shortly after our special dinner. I was admitted into the hospital where they monitored the baby and then release once it was determined that this was just a part of my abnormal pregnancy hormones. My mother-in-law was due in town on December 15th and the very same day I was admitted back into the hospital with colon spasms and released that evening with the strict conditions of being on complete bed rest until the birth of my son. I was so excited to have my mother-in-law come to be with me for the birth, but at the same time it tore me in two because I really wanted my husband. I was still waiting faithfully for the waiver to be approved, praying it would happen before our boy arrived. On December 26, 2008 I gave birth to a healthy baby boy, Zeke. Paul was there via Skype, longing to hold his son, to cuddle him, kiss him and look into his eyes. I was transformed into a mother and couldn’t have been happier with my new bundle of joy. I was stressed however of how my husbands mental state was. I moved forward though with my motherly duties. Paul and I decided that I would return to Ecuador with our son as soon as he had received his first round of vaccines. I made preparations for Zeke to get his passport and made sure we had all of his medical files up to date. My parents were distraught but understood that my baby needed to know his father. Before I was to return home my mother-in-law went through extensive surgery. Doctors had to remove the head of her pancreas in order to remove the tumor, and they removed one lobe of her liver and burnt off the small tumors on her remaining lobes. She would have a tough recovery ahead of her, but we were all happy with the news that the tumors appeared to be gone. We returned to Ecuador on February 26th, 2009. Zeke was exactly two months old. When we arrived my husband was so excited to finally hold his baby boy and to hold his wife. We went home together. Elsi was happy to see her grandbaby once again, though she couldn’t hold him yet because of her delicate state after surgery. It was very difficult for me being there with a relatively new baby without any of my family around. The customs and traditions that the Ecuadorians followed when rearing children were so strange to me and I could not adjust. We went to meet several pediatricians in order to find someone that I could agree with and that I felt was the best fit for my child. We tried to make the best of things even though it was very costly and just more difficult to do things that we take for granted here. I was forced to be a different kind of mother than I ever imagined. I was treated like an idiot for not wrapping my child in three heavy blankets over top of three layers of clothes and a hat even though it was sixty or seventy degrees outside. I was shouted at by people to wrap up my baby or told that I needed to put a red bracelet on my baby to protect him from evil spirits. I was baffled at these primitive views and tired of arguing. I went on doing what I knew was best for my child and ignored the ugly and sometimes hurtful things family members and even complete strangers would say to me about how I chose to mother my baby. Zeke grew up month by month; I can’t ever say he was ever taken over by evil spirits because I refused to make him wear a red bracelet. When Zeke reached his eighth month we knew that I needed to return to work in order to start paying for formula as I was running low on breast milk and we had a growing boy to feed. I searched for someone to help me with my son and finally found a perfect match. We had our maid come each day and watch Zeke as well as help around the house as Paul and I would both be gone for the longer part of the day. I went back to the school to work as a high school English teacher, serving God and a bunch of teenagers. I was sad about having less time with my sweet baby and longed to stay home with him, but I knew that I needed the small paycheck to make ends meet. Our babysitter and I were having disagreements on how she was caring for Zeke. He was over a year old and not walking. This was mostly because she would carry him on her back all day with a sheet and he was not able to be on the floor where he could crawl and learn to walk. He was falling behind and I was getting worried. This continued and in February of 2010 our maid decided that she needed to move on and find work that would pay her more, and I was in agreement because I needed to find someone who could work with our son so that he could continue to develop and grow at the rate he was supposed to be growing. I was stuck with a last minute decision and finding someone to trust to watch my child. Paul and I searched daycares as Zeke was over a year old now and he would reap many benefits from being with other children his age. We finally chose one and he started mid-February. Two weeks after starting daycare Zeke was running! I couldn’t believe the difference. The good only lasted for a month though. In March of 2010 Zeke became ill. He had contracted a serious bacterial infection. We had to admit him into the hospital because he couldn’t control his vomiting or diarrhea. He was seriously dehydrated and needed fluids and intravenous doses of an antibiotic to kill the infection. He was in the hospital for almost three days. We chose to take Zeke out of daycare, as it seemed he had contracted the infection from bad food handling there. When we returned home I fell ill. I was thinking that it was the same thing; only to find out that I wasn’t sick I was pregnant again with our second child. When I found out I was already eight weeks into the pregnancy. We were excited, however I was not looking forward to another nine months of vomiting. I was able to handle the vomiting easier than I did during the first pregnancy and I tried to continue working. Almost two weeks after I found out I was pregnant I started bleeding. Paul rushed home to take me to the hospital where we learned that I was suffering from a hematoma in the wall of my uterus and was placed on full bed rest for at least four weeks or until it was completely healed. They said that it was most likely from the force of all the vomiting and from the activities at work with the kids. I was not allowed to do normal daily activities or lift my now fourteen month old. I was out of work again, and as the pregnancy progressed the vomiting only got worse. Doctors decided to prescribe me shots that would be injected in my rear end and I was to have them every six hours. This did not help with the vomiting as promised and only added pain to injury. In the end of March my mom came to Ecuador to help me with Zeke and to take care of me, as I was not able to do it while Paul was at work. She had to prepare meals, as I could not look at food, or even smell it without vomiting. My poor mother fell ill after arriving from altitude sickness and was unable to help or do anything for almost a week. I was unable to eat and losing weight once again at rapid speed. After two months we decided that I was not getting better and once again needed to return to the United States to see if I could regain some weight and get proper medical care. I returned home the first week of June and once again had to go to the health department and Medicaid offices to see about receiving medical care, WIC and food stamps. I was staying with my parents but needed to feed my toddler, my unborn child and myself. I was humbled to receive help once again and started regular visits to the doctor. I had switched my depression medication at the first news of the pregnancy and now the doctors here just needed to help me gain some weight back. They went through my new file and saw all of the previous issues I had while in Ecuador and checked me for any sign of the hematoma and determined that it had completely healed. They also set me up with a nutrition plan so that I could regain my health. I started work immediately at a pizzeria and was working as much as possible in order to pay for diapers, wipes and other personal hygiene needs, as well as gas to get to and from work and clothes for my growing toddler. I worked on my feet serving food, working a buffet, a cash register, and scooping ice cream the entire summer. All the while I started gaining weight and was able to eat. At this point I was feeling much better as I was able to eat my food without any worries of contracting a bacterial infection or parasite. This work was very hard with temperatures in the kitchen staying over a hundred degrees, and being on my feet. There were times I didn’t think I would be able to make it through an entire shift. My dad asked me to quit the pizzeria and come help him at his law firm as his secretary and personal assistant had put in her notice and he would need someone that knew the ins and outs of his business to start immediately. I went to work for him at his law firm helping with criminal law and doing receptionist work as well. I was relieved to take a job where I didn’t have to be on my feet. August 19th, 2010 we received a phone call that would change everything for my parents. My dad’s law firm was in jeopardy as there were some illegal activities taking place in his office. After two weeks of our own investigating we learned that his closing secretary who also happened to be the bookkeeper and IT person had been embezzling money. My dad’s fiduciary rights were stripped until both the State Bar and the local police could complete the investigation. We were devastated as this meant they were going to lose their house and cars and business of thirty-one years. I felt like more of a burden, living under their roof with my one year old and not being able to contribute financially. There were family discussions of a move to another area in order for my parents to find jobs and escape the stresses that came with this ordeal. My dad suffered heart disease and problems with depression and anxiety years before this incident and he was starting to show signs of a major heart attack and emotional break down right before my eyes. Immediately I called Paul and we made a split-moment decision that I needed to return to Ecuador to give birth to our second son, this was something we had created and I would have to suffer in order to save my parents any more burden. Also, I was not comfortable with moving once again with my parents, having to look for a new doctor and taking Zeke away from a comfortable place with less than two months left in my pregnancy. Mid-September I returned to Ecuador with Zeke to prepare with my gynecologist there the birth of our son. On the second night in Ecuador I started showing signs of premature labor. I was admitted into the hospital and given medication to stop my contractions. I was then sent home for a week on complete bed-rest. I then returned to the hospital three days later when the medication was no longer stopping my contractions and I had started vomiting. I was diagnosed with an intestinal infection that was causing me to go into labor. They admitted me and I would stay there until baby came. I was in the nicest hospital in Quito, and felt safe there. On September 30th, 2010 the President of Ecuador was kidnapped and the police were staging a coup. He was kidnapped at the Police Headquarters, which was across the street from the hospital I was in, and taken hostage in the hospital just a few feet up the street. Our hospital went on lock down, no one in and no one out. My gynecologist, the baby’s pediatrician and my husband had no way to get to me. There were riots outside of our hospital and tear gas was shot under the windows of my side of the hospital. The wing that I was on was evacuated to the hallways as our rooms filled with tear gas. Later in the evening the military stepped in to rescue the president and there was a mini-war outside of our hospital. The windows in the front of the hospital were shot out, the windows of the catwalk that connected two of the hospital buildings were shot out, and we were moved to the floor for our safety. Things finally ended just before eleven that evening, yet we were all still shaken. The next morning around nine the hospital reopened and my husband was able to finally get to me. That evening the doctors decided to take me off of my medication and let the baby come as my body was still fighting against the medications and I was having contractions. The baby would be five weeks and four days premature and there were risks, but we risked more if I kept taking the medications. I walked the halls of the hospital and even went to check out the damage from the events of the night before in order to prepare for birth. I hadn’t been allowed to walk anywhere but to the bathroom for two weeks and I knew I needed to get my body ready for the work ahead. October 2, 2010 I went into labor at six in the morning and gave birth to a tiny, but healthy baby boy at eight am. No epidural, no drugs and every bit of it in Spanish. I was exhausted, but extremely blessed to welcome Benjamin into this world. I was so happy that my husband was able to hold my hand and go through the experience with me, even if it meant more pain. He was so proud to hold his second baby boy on the day he was born. We were able to return home the following day despite Benji being premature. And things seemed to be perfect. Two days after returning home, Benji came down with a bad case of jaundice. We had to give him sunbaths hourly and watch him closely. We went back to the hospital on his third day for some blood tests that needed to be sent off and to see what else we could do about his jaundice. The jaundice had reached his belly button and I was growing fearful. The whites of his eyes were a deep yellow, as well as the inside of his mouth. They told us to continue sunbaths and if it moved past his belly button to bring him back. We took him back home and continued his sun treatments. Weeks later he finally started to lose his yellow coloring and look like a normal baby. We also had issues with his circumcision; they used the plasti-bell method and it caused him sever pain. The small plastic device finally fell off after twelve torturous days. Nursing this second baby was much harder for some reason. He cried the entire time he ate and continuously threw up his milk. He seemed to scream all the time, and couldn’t even keep down formula. At two months old, I took him back to the pediatrician where she thought maybe he had thrush or was lactose intolerant. I stopped breast-feeding him and we tried several different formulas to no avail. Also, his little belly button fell off, but didn’t look normal as it stuck out. After doing my own research on the Internet I discovered that he most likely had reflux disease. I took him back to the doctor and told her of my findings. She agreed and checked into it further, she also said that he had an umbilical hernia and that we would have to watch it. She said that the hernia was from his constant crying, but that with his new type of formula it should start to heal on its own. This new formula made a huge difference, and I felt so bad that my baby had suffered almost three months. Things started to become normal and our boys were growing. We were struggling financially, but we were ok. Then we received word that my mother-in-law’s tumors were growing back at a very rapid pace. She had started to look pregnant as the tumor was growing behind her stomach, pushing it forward. She had only three options, leave it alone and die, a liver transplant, or try chemotherapy and have a very small chance at living. She was denied her liver transplant and was left with the other two options. The doctors didn’t know how she was still alive just over three years after her diagnosis, but this type of pancreatic cancer was so rare that no one knew what to expect anymore. Paul and I were faced with what to do now that we knew Elsi’s time was limited and we needed to move forward with our own lives. Paul decided to try for aeronautical school. In the meantime the boys were adapting, Zeke was back in daycare and Benji was home with a full time maid. One morning I noticed that Benji had blisters on both of his arms and on his face and head. I called my husband and told him to come home as soon as possible that we needed to take Benji to the doctor it appeared he was having an allergic reaction to something. He told me he was at the hospital with his mom, but would be back I two hours. I didn’t know if I had two hours, I told him I’d wait but if it started to spread anymore I would be rushing him to the emergency room. Minutes later Paul called back but asked to speak to the maid. I could hear him yelling on the other end of the phone and her poor face sunk. She hung up and told me that we had to talk. She explained to me that her, Elsi and Elsi’s maid had tried to get evil spirits out of my baby. Benji had been crying a lot lately due to teething, yet there they believe when a baby cries a lot that they have evil spirits in them, and since my baby wasn’t wearing a red bracelet he wasn’t safe. The day before the three of them had made a special concoction of cologne, leaves from a plant, egg whites and water and had rubbed it all over my baby to heal him. I was beyond livid and so was my husband. Elsi had said that it was her idea and the maids had followed her orders. When they returned my husband made my mother-in-law take me to the hospital with Benji, so that she could explain what she had done. I was sick to my stomach; I knew these blisters would scar him. The doctor was also very angry with Elsi and told her that what she did was in no way right and that those were old indigenous customs that were in no way medically sound. The doctor prescribed creams for Benjamin’s arms, face and head and sent us home. Elsi was apologetic and I was forgiving, but I could no longer stay in this country where my boys were facing everyday traditions, ways of life, and dangers. Paul and I decided it would be best for me to come back to the United States while he went to school and I could try working on his paperwork again. April 15, 2011 I returned to the States. I had no car, nowhere to live and only the hopes that I could stay with my grandmother, aunt and uncle or a friend. I had already started applying for jobs before I left, but still hadn’t heard anything. My Granny agreed to let us stay with her for a month while I searched for work and a place to live. A good friend helped me get a car by cosigning for me. I kept on applying for jobs and going to interviews, scheduling them during the boy’s naptime so that my Granny could stay with them. She was unable to watch them while they were awake as she has degenerative osteoarthritis and couldn’t lift Benji. I had a lot to do and a month to get it done in. We moved into a partially furnished trailer for five hundred dollars a month. I renewed Zeke’s Medicaid and applied for Benji. I was told that I couldn’t apply for food stamps until I had their Medicaid approved, or proof of income. I still didn’t have a job. My Granny helped out as much as she could as well as my parents, but with the economy like it was and still is we were beginning to struggle. Finally, the boys Medicaid was approved and I was able to apply for food stamps. I also heard from the bank that I would be starting on June sixth. So, we relied on food stamps and donations from a local church to get us through the month of May. I also tried to get the boys on the waiting list for government paid daycare vouchers, but was told that I had to be employed before I could get them on the list. My official offer from Bank of America was made to me on May thirtieth and I called my caseworker to be put on the voucher list as soon as I accepted the offer. I put the kids in daycare the first week of June at our church, but soon found out that even with work I could not afford to pay daycare and ended up taking them out after three weeks and not a penny paid. I owed them nine hundred forty dollars, and had no one to watch my kids. During their stay at the church daycare they endured the normal immunity deficiency that all small children experience when starting at a new daycare. They were constantly sick and even contracted pink eye. This caused my to have to be out of work only a week after starting. A prayer was answered when some of the young mothers at my church said that they would take turns and help me with the kids until I got the vouchers. They were going back and forth daily between these women’s homes and I was stressing daily because I didn’t want to wear out my welcome. We attended church regularly and were able to make some friends close by. We attend the Hispanic services at this church so that my boys can continue to understand their culture and so that I can continue practicing my Spanish. I was supposed to be eligible for health insurance on August sixth, but for some reason everyone kept telling me I wasn’t eligible. There was a glitch in the system and because I was a rehire there was some confusion in human resources. I did not receive eligibility until mid October and my paycheck was deducted three hundred dollars to cover my monthly payments back to my eligibility date of August. This made no sense, as I had to fight to get my insurance instated, and after much fighting it was apparent that I would not be getting that three hundred dollars back. Luckily the bank offers three face to face psychological appointments for employees. I took advantage of this and signed up. I went to my first visit and felt much better after talking about all that I was going through, and how much I missed my husband. October 16, 2011 around three in the morning I received a phone call. My mother-in-law had passed away. We knew that she was doing much worse, but for me it was just too soon. My husband has left school two weeks before to return home and take care of her. I was getting updates, but it all seemed surreal. When we left she hadn’t started chemotherapy yet and she seemed well. I fell into a deep depression. I didn’t know how I was going to tell Zeke. I had been preparing him for it, asking him if it was okay for Abuelita to go be with God. I told him that Daddy was going to help her get ready to go be with God. But now was different and he was only two. He talked about his Abuelita everyday, asked to talk to her and Paul would send us voice messages where she would say hola and that she loved us. Zeke loved it and now we couldn’t do that. He took it ok, but kept saying he wanted to go be with God too. He wasn’t able to grasp the concept that we can just go visit God and Abuelita. I went to my second and third psychological visits and was relieved to have someone to talk to, to cry to. I couldn’t believe this. I felt guilty, I should have been there to take care of her and hold her hand in her last days. She was my closest friend, my other mom. My husband had to change her diapers, sponge bathe her. That is something that I should have done, to at least spare what dignity she had left, but I couldn’t be there. And, even if we could have gone, I couldn’t afford the plane tickets. I will forever regret not being there with Elsi as she left this world. I will forever be partially broken because I have lost someone who loved me, who witnessed the birth of my first child, who taught me another language, who always took my side in marital battles, who prayed for me to no end. She always made me feel special and took care of me. She was human and she made mistakes, we had our differences and our arguments, but she was a mother to me. I missed the part where I was supposed to take care of her in her darkest hour, where I was supposed to help her through the hardest part. I have cried everyday since. And, I can’t even imagine how I will feel when the time comes to go back to her home and her not be there. But, I had to keep going for my boys for my family. And so I returned to life with a whole in my heart. We received the vouchers for daycare in the end of October 2011. The boys started daycare November first and that is when all sorts of medical issues arose once again. The boys stayed sick and I was constantly out with them, my paid sick time being used up quickly. Zeke and Benji both contracted a serious stomach virus that spread through the entire family over Thanksgiving. Then Zeke was admitted into the emergency room when he complained of abdominal pains and couldn’t walk. I had to call my aunt and uncle who lived forty-five minutes away to please come and get Benji, he wouldn’t be able to stay with us any longer because they were going to be transferring Zeke to a children’s hospital for possible surgery for what looked like appendicitis. My aunt and uncle came to get Benji and then we were rushed by ambulance to the Levine Children’s Hospital in Charlotte. We were admitted to the intensive care unit right away. When we arrived the doctors and surgeon postponed the emergency appendectomy, so that they could observe him for a few hours. After a long night and many prayers we were informed the next morning that he would have to stay through the day, but that he seemed to be improving. Hours later the doctors and surgeon came in and told me that they had diagnosed him with virus that mimics appendicitis affecting the lymph nodes in the same area of the abdomen. We were discharged that evening and then drove to get Benji almost an hour away from Charlotte. Only weeks later in the beginning of December, Benji was thought to possibly have pneumonia. We were at the pediatricians office and were instructed to go have chest x-rays the following morning. Benji started vomiting as soon as we got home from the doctors office and I had to call the on-call doctor for the pediatrician’s office. Their pediatrician called me back immediately and asked me his symptoms, she then called the hospital and when she called me back she told me to take him up to the emergency room and they would directly admit him. Once again I had to call my aunt and uncle to come get Zeke this time. I also called my mom and dad. My dad decided to drive up immediately from five hours away and he would get Zeke from his brother’s house and take him back to his and my mother’s house so that I could get Benji well. Benji was admitted and poked and prodded. I was there with him for two nights and three days as we worked on his recovery. I was heart broken, my Zeke was going to be gone until Christmas Eve when I could go back to pick him up and my other baby was extremely ill. I couldn’t return to work until Benji could return to daycare, so we were home and I was no longer receiving pay for sick time for over a week. I needed my husband more than ever and he isn’t able to come here to help me. Now it is the New Year. Benji has had peumonia again, this time without the hospital stay, but I had to be out a week with him. At the same time Zeke had bronchitis so we were all stuck in this house getting better. In the past weeks many things have changed for us, our Pastor left the church because he and his family can’t afford to renew their visas to stay in the US. They will be going back to Mexico in days. My children and I have lost yet another three members of our “family”. We are taking it hard, but accepting God’s will. I am tired. I have been doing this for ten months and I am worn out. My children only see me first thing in the morning, for dinner, and if they wake up in the middle of the night during the week. I work half days on Saturdays, so they only get half of that day, and Sunday. We don’t get to spend much time together and my children are suffering for it. Benji will start developmental therapy this week as he is sixteen months old and still not walking or talking. I can’t spend the time with him myself to get him up to par on his development. Zeke is asking everyday for his Daddy. He cries at night saying he wants his Daddy, and it is heartbreaking. What do I tell my three year old? Daddy loves you and he wants to be with you. Zeke frequently says, “Daddy mad.” It kills me to think that he thinks that his daddy isn’t here because he doesn’t want to be. We have applied for Paul’s visa three times. The first time we were told that it could be transferred, and that wasn’t true. The second time we were told that my letter didn’t prove I was living under extreme hardship. I have taken three months writing this letter, changing it, and I am terrified of being denied again. I don’t know how much more I can take. My husband has missed ten critical months of his son’s lives. The last time he saw Benji was when he was six months old. I worry about how they will bond, if Benji will even know his father the next time we see him. Zeke is acting out and showing behavioral issues, maybe it’s because he just turned three and this is another step in his development, but I don’t believe that. He misses his daddy. He wakes up telling me that he hugged his daddy or that he played with Daddy and I know he’s dreaming about him. I am deeply saddened. I miss my partner, my best friend, the father of my children and the love of my life. My medication only works to a certain extent and I find myself crying daily. I am tired of being a victim, of people asking me where my husband is and why he can’t come here. I am tired of being poor Jessie. I want my family back together so that we can be the strong family unit that God intended us to be. I now know that I have no control over any of this, but I feel like I am being punished. I am a US Citizen, my children are US Citizens and we are being punished everyday. Paul and I have paid the fees, we have used money that was meant for groceries, gas, light bills to pay these fees. And we paid them three times. I am exhausted. I have lost faith in our government. I have lost faith in human compassion. The person reading this is a human. The person that read my last letter was a human being and chose to deprive my husband the experience of the birth of his first-born child. The first two months of his baby’s life. I ask you, whoever you are to please have compassion for this family. If I could send you pictures of my boys with there daddy and pictures of them now I would, so that you can see how much they’ve grown and how much has been missed. We are good American people, God loving people who just want to be together. Please, give us the opportunity to live together, to grow together, to love one another under the same roof. We are praying daily that God will bless the people reading these letters. That God will fill you with mercy and that you will respond to this petition with a positive answer. Thank you for your time and your attention. Sincerely, Jessie M. Sanchez

And the light is...

GREEEEEEN!

That's right we got the go-ahead about noon today! We are so excited to be moving forward. Honestly, we are a little gape-mouthed at the way God has been opening doors for us with this new project.

So, now that we have a definite solid plan we are ready to role! I can't wait to see the things that God has in-store for us.

I am gonna rock being a single mommy for a while, and Paul is gonna rock at working to support his family in a way we never thought possible!

Keep praying people! We are gonna need it. And, if I am bald the next time you see me, well just remember I am with two little tricycle motors who never stop!

because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. James 1:3-5

God's Will

It constantly amazes me how God can turn us in a completely new direction at any given time. Lately, it seems that my husband and I have been going through one of those crazy roundabouts like you see in the movies (or if you live here in Ecuador, the ones you see daily). And, suddenly God has decided that we will go in a certain direction. He gave us no notice, and He has told us very little about where it is going to take us.

My husband is going to venture into new studies that I will refrain from sharing as it is very personal for him. And, I will take our two precious boys and return to the US for an unknown amount of time.

Tomorrow we will receive news that will change our lives forever. No, I am not pregnant. No, none of us are sick. But, God will either give my husband the green light to move forward in his endeavor, or He will tell him to explore other options. I am praying, of course that he gets the green light. Paul needs to smile, needs to move on and do what he has always dreamed of doing.

So, what does this mean for me? Well, God has put me here to be my husbands helper. To support him in any and every way possible. I will take Zeke and Benji back to the States where we will stay with my Granny for three or four weeks until I can get us on our feet. I have once again been humbled by asking my family for assistance. My Granny has everything ready, a week and a half early. I asked my Uncle tonight to help me getting a car, which was probably the hardest thing I have ever had to do. He has always been there for me, but honestly I was nauseous and shaking before making that call. Also, I will be going to my local government office and asking for help. I have done this before and it is humiliating. However, I know that I am using the system for the right reasons and that when I am on my feet I will not abuse it.

We leave in a little over a week and I am terrified. Mostly, I am scared of the full day of flying and going through airports with a two year old and a six month old. I know that it will be exhausting and arriving to my final destination at almost midnight is sure to mean that the following day I will be a zombie.

I also worry about how this will effect Zeke. I worry about him being away from his father for a long period of time, he is a Daddy's boy all the way. I know that I will have to fulfill both mother and father for a while. The thought of him losing his Spanish has me nervous because we have done so much to ensure that he gets adequate time in both languages. Heck, I should be more worried about me losing my Spanish.

As for Benji, well I am so relieved that he is still a baby and will never remember this time. I have personally witnessed how Zeke went back and forth while he was young and did just fine. The saddest part is that Paul will not be there for all of his changes.

I foresee Benji's first birthday without Daddy there. Christmas apart, which is something we said we would never do again. This is the sacrifice that we are going to have to make in order for our family to eventually prosper. We must struggle to reach happiness.

As for our marriage, we are working hard through the Word of God to ensure that we are strong through this time. Our study is helping so much already and we are hanging on to every last Word that God has to offer. His love is evident, and we are seeing the finish line even though we know that it is very far away. We pray that God will sustain us with an abundant amount of love for one another, as well as the strength that both of us will need to accomplish what we are being called to do.

I ask that all of you reading please pray for us continuously. Pray that God will in fact give us the go, and that we will be able to be warriors and beat the battle that that entails. We appreciate all of our friends and family members who have been so supportive and who will be there to lift us up when times get tough. Thank you all for everything that you do to show us your love daily.

God has not given us a spirit of fearfulness, but one of power, love and sound judgement. 2 Timothy 1:7

My Least Favorite Holiday EVER

Who knew things at Valentine's could be so hectic on all ends.

As most of you know, I worked in wholesale in Charlotte, NC with my husband a few years back. He has been in the flower business for just over 10 years. Being from Ecuador he knows his stuff and is confident in Ecuadorian product.

I have always hated Valentine's day! Well not always. When I was a kid we would wake up every Valentine's day and my Dad would have chocolates (the one's in the red hearts) and a card waiting for each of us on the dining room table! I always loved this, my mom of course got a realllly big heart with chocolate.

When I was 17 I was dating a real loser and my family made a decision for me to go live with my aunt and uncle eight hours away from home. I left on Valentine's Day, and cried the entire eight hour ride. From that day forward I hated Valentine's Day and every year something crappy happened!

The very next year I got pulled over for speeding, I had a vase of flowers in my car and I hit the accelerator because the vase flew in the floor board of the passenger seat and I was paying more attention to getting it up than my speed. (I was 18). By the way the flowers weren't for me, they were for a friend from a forbidden boyfriend and she couldn't take them home for fear of her parents.

When I was 19 and a freshman in college I had bronchitis and sinusitis at the same time on Valentine's Day. And guess what? I was asked out on my first date. I was sick, but I really wanted to go on this date, so I said yes. You can only imagine how beautiful I looked with a running nose, a hacking cough and burning eyes. The nice boy came to pick he up and in one hand he had a precious moose from Abercrombie and Fitch and in the other a helmet. That's right we were going to the movies on a motorcycle. It was 34 degrees outside!!! My dumb self still wanted so badly to go on this real first date, so off we went to the movies. Low and behold about 25 minutes into the movie the durn thing burnt, seriously we saw on the screen as the movie real started burning! So, that date ended quickly, we had just enough time to thaw out from our freezing cold ride and then we had to get right back on the bike! And no, there was no good night kiss, he definitely didn't want what I had!

Year after year same story, bad Valentine's Days. And, then I met my husband. We dated for four months, got married. I happened to marry a man in flowers which meant Valentine's Day would be even worse. We worked our butts of on our first Valentine's Day. Went to dinner very late and couldn't even enjoy it because we were so worn out. No good night kiss after that date either...I think I was asleep before we even got home.

We moved to Ecuador the next fall and Paul found a job at a rose farm as soon as possible. Valentine's Day number two for us was wild. Here at the farms about a week or two before Valentine's Day everyone is in a tizzy. They work from six am until late in the night. The first night I cooked for the sales team and the owner and drove it out to them. Fried chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes, sweet tea...the whole Southern sha-bang! They probably thought it was a very weird meal, but they were thankful for something hot and filling! Then a few days later they asked me to come and help. We got there around seven am and started to work. We were getting the cellophane wrappers separated, printing tickets to go on the boxes, putting the stickers on the boxes, moving boxes and so much more. We finally left the farm at three am, took home the other sales people and got home at four in the morning. We were dead. We didn't even want to hear the word Valentine's Day, or see a single frickin flower when the day came!

The following year Paul did the same thing with a different farm and I was in the US with our new baby Zeke! The next year Paul was 2 hours from here at a different farm and stayed at the farm for two days came home, left again for another two days and then returned. We missed each other and well that is why we have Benji!

So, this year...I am working for a rose farm, selling to the US exclusively to florists. I am pulling my hair out. Thank God I am able to work from home, but still I am so stressed. I have been talking with clients from different parts of the US, and I have four clients that ordered for Valentine's Day! Yay me! I have been beside myself, so excited for my sales. I have one client in South Dakota, one in Northern Florida, and two in North Carolina! I went first thing Monday, as my roses were supposed to leave Monday night to make sure everything was perfect. I got there and the roses hadn't been packaged yet, but I got to see them being measured and cut and talked with our engineer about one of our varieties that sometimes has a defect. I asked her to please make sure that none of our roses had that defective petal and to have someone check them very well before packaging! I then went and spoke with everyone in sales, and with the woman who gets the orders to the engineer. When I left everything was great! I was so nervous though because of some problems with FedEx.

That's right we are sending our roses to these florists via FedEx. Due to all of the bad weather across the US there are tons of delays and not just commercial flights, but cargo flights as well. From what I have heard last week there was a 72 hour wait to get flowers out of Ecuador. Things clear up over the weekend and I was really hoping that the weather would hold off. But, NO it decided to snow some more! No one at FedEx here in Quito would talk to me on Tuesday or Wednesday to give me any information on what my shipments travel may look like. They only told me via email that something looked weird with our tickets on the boxes. Um hello, I need to know more and NO ONE would answer my calls. I know I can be pretty scary when I get angry, but I wasn't angry yet, just worried. I tried looking for my boxes on the FedEx website with the tracking numbers given to me by the farm with no luck. My dear husband even called FedEx for me to make sure that there wasn't a language problem and to scare them a little. I was prepared to go to Quito myself to the cargo area and find out the problem for myself, but I thought I would try one more time. Finally, last night at six thirty; after I had been spoken to like I was the one doing something wrong by my sales manager and had cried a few times because I couldn't do anything about the fact that FedEx wouldn't answer a phone, an email or return my calls after many "nice" messages; I spoke with someone at the Quito office. No, not my personal representative, but a very helpful man. Come to find out my sales office printed the tickets incorrectly and they had to redo all of the tickets there at FedEx. Um, hello, all they had to do was call me and tell me that. The man gave me all new tracking numbers, but told me that they would be of no help because there was no information as far as destination or estimated time attached to them because they all had to be entered manually and no one had done that. WHAT??? WHY??? So, I had to quit for the night and pray that God would take my packages where they needed to go.

This morning, I finally got up with my sales representative. She was still hesitant to give me any information and transfered my case to someone in customer service! I am appalled! I spent the whole morning on the phone with FedEx customer service in both English and Spanish trying to get things straight with no luck. I finally emailed every contact I had at FedEx and finally got a reply from someone I had never even heard of giving me the locations of my roses!!!!!!! My roses are supposed to be at their locations by 10:30 am this morning. I got this email at 10:18. It seems the only roses that will be arriving on time will be the ones going to Florida, hm big shock and she won't be getting but three of her four boxes. The others seem to be a day behind, but they can't give me a straight answer on that either.

I am about to implode with anger, but have kept my cool! Now, I am preparing my speech for the general manager of FedEx at the Quito office. We will be having a meeting and if I have to do it in Spanish then so be it! For the moment, I will be waiting patiently for my clients to call me and let me know when their roses come in. And, pray that the sky doesn't fall out tonight so that the vans can get to them. Also, praying that the roses don't freeze!!!

I hate Valentine's Day, seriously! And, I told my eleventh grade students this last year about a week after a Bible class talking about how in God's eyes to commit hatred is the same thing as committing murder. So, what do my students say, "Ms. Jessie, you just killed Cupid!" I guess I did and I don't feel bad about it one bit!

Benji's Story

The last time I wrote I had no idea that I would be going into the hospital the very next day, and that when I came home I would be joined by Walter Benjamin. I woke up on the morning of September 27th, throwing up and having contractions. Back to the hospital we went and they determined I had some sort of infection that was causing the onset of my contractions. I was readmitted and at only 34 weeks, 7th day I would be medicated to keep baby in for as long as possible.

September 30, 2010
Paul and I have been married for four years, I couldn't wait for him to come to the hospital, so that I could tell him how much I loved him and how happy he made me. He had gone home the night before to stay with Zeke, and had to go to the farms before he could come and see me. The doctor had come in and informed me that today they would stop giving me the medicine that was stopping my contractions. I would not be receiving the next dose at 4 PM and my contractions would start getting worse. We were going to have a baby and possibly on our four year anniversary.

I was watching Friends and any other show I could get in English. Little did I know every other channel was showing an attack that was taking place across the street from the hospital where I was staying. I heard something that sounded like a fight outside of my hospital window and went to look. A man was hitting another man in the face and then turned and hit the woman that was accompanying the victim as well. And, ,people were yelling. I noticed that the woman in the room next to me was watching out the window as well. All of a sudden I saw people walking up the street with bright green banners shouting for President Rafael Correa.

Immediately, I sent Paul a message to call me and decided maybe I should watch a little TV in Spanish. I changed the channel to see complete chaos and my phone rang at the same time. Paul said that the President had been kidnapped and that he was on his way to me. He asked if I was ok and how things were around me. "I am fine and there seems to be protesting outside," I responded. Paul then explained that everything was taking place across the street. "Where is Zeke?!?!" I began to panic as I realized what this could mean. Not to worry, Paul had turned around from his trip to the farm and gone straight to get Zeke as soon as he heard the first report on the radio. The kidnapping of a president in this country could mean complete and utter chaos, the closing of roads, lack of security and Paul was well aware of this.

In a matter of minutes the streets filled with protesters, people coming to rescue the president. He had been attacked at the Police Headquarters across the street from the hospital where I was staying. He was then taken to the Police Hospital, which was on the same property as the Headquarters, but facing the other side of the street. He was barricaded in the hospital by the National Police and was not able to escape. People, everyday citizens, supporters of Correa were marching to his rescue. They were throwing rocks and bottles at the police who were blocking the presidents exit. And, the police attacked. All of a sudden there were people running back, away from something. Tear gas. The police were shooting tear gas grenades at the people to keep them away from the hospital...at close range. The grenades were hitting the people in the arms, legs, torsos, and I was watching it from my window. People were choking, falling to the ground and others were bringing them water once the smoke cleared. I turned on the T.V. and started searching the internet (thank God I brought my laptop with me) and the images were disturbing. I had met the president about a year before and he is a handsome man, who is always smiling. The pictures I saw were of a man in great distress, who had been betrayed by people who he had given so much too. I cried at the look on his face in the images, he was choking on tear gas and had a look of pure terror in his eyes. I made sure to tell my parents before they saw it themselves on the news, as I didn't want them to freak out. They were able to see the protesters via Skype out of my hospital window, however I couldn't keep the windows open much longer because the smoke began to come into the hospital.

The resident doctor came back in and informed me that I would be taking the medicine to control my contractions at 4 PM because the hospital was on lockdown. No one in and no one out. My doctor would not be able to enter the hospital if I did, in fact go into labor. I used her phone to call Paul and tell him that he would not be allowed to enter the hospital. He was just down the street from the hospital and said that the roads were closed, and that there were no police anywhere on the streets. He said that he would call me and check on me periodically. I could hear in his voice that he felt helpless. I let him know that I was okay and that I thought it would be safer anyways if he and Zeke were in the valley where things were calmer. He agreed and headed back home.

Nurses came suddenly, and started putting wet sheets in the window sills to stop the smoke from coming in. The police were getting closer to the back of the hospital and that meant the grenades were being shot closer to where we were. The street just behind my window was at first where people would run to escape the tear gas and cops. Now it had become a trap. The police had closed in on both ends of the street and there was a mass of people trapped between two barricades of weapon wielding police officers. The people were trying to climb the fence and enter the hospital in order to escape the police and tore down part of the fence. My nurse Irina and I were watching out of my window. The police were telling the people to move and were herding them onto the cross street through a small opening and then started shooting tear gas at them. All of a sudden a tear gas grenade landed under my window and another one under the window two rooms down. Nurse Irina and I turned and ran for the door. She ran down the hall to get help and telling people to come out of their rooms and into the hall. Smoke was coming in through our windows (they are not sealed like at home). She came back with a mask for me and then started handing them out to other patients. We had to wait for about 20 minutes for the smoke to clear out of our rooms before we were allowed back in.

While we waited outside of our rooms things outside calmed down. My eyes burned from the small amount of smoke that had entered my room. I went back in my room once the smell had dissipated and turned my attention back to the news. Things outside were quiet and I felt relieved for some peace. My throat, nose and ears burned, I kept coughing. I couldn't imagine how the president must have felt, having one of those grenades explode in his face. Finally, it was quiet.

However, Correa was still trapped in the Police Hospital and the country was standing still. There were no police out on the streets. It had gotten dark and there was no sense of security. Anyone that was at the hospital would be sleeping there, and the main reason they couldn't leave is because there was fear that they would be robbed. Two banks had been robbed, stores had been robbed. There were no police to stop the bad guys. They had abandoned their posts and left the people to feel helpless.

Suddenly, I heard heavy gunfire. Since it was dark I couldn't see anything out of my window and was a little scared to get close as I didn't know exactly where the police hospital was in relation to my hospital room. The news was showing that the Ecuadorian military was trying to rescue the president and that the police were retaliating. They didn't want anyone to take Correa away from them. They were waiting on him to fold and give in on the decision he had made to change the promotion time from five to seven years, that there would no longer be metals given at the promotion ceremonies and they wouldn't receive a large bonus at these promotions. They would, however be paid more monthly. They had already received better equipment, their barracks had been remodeled and fit with nicer furniture and at the moment they were shooting with the newly obtained weapons that he had given them. Correa told them that he would not change his mind and that it might be best that they read the new law before believing the word on the street. In fact, not one of them had actually read the law and the only thing that they had in fact understood was what was relayed to them by word of mouth. Right out of the mouth of someone who wanted to take Rafael Correa down, and had construed a plan to let the police do it.

The shooting got louder and this was the first time I was actually scared. I was scared for the people in the hospital, for the men that where out there trying to rescue their commander in chief and for the man that was in the middle of it all. I felt for a moment like I was in Iraq. It felt like being in a war zone, and my sense of security was stripped away at that moment. First, I opened my room door just incase I needed to run again. Then, I got in my bed, snuggled down in my covers and turned my attention to the news. There were camera crews out on the street and in the hospital capturing the scene. I watched in horror, cringing every time I saw them drop a camera as they ducked down to escape passing bullets. The most disturbing scene was when I saw the body of a military person fall off of the embankment and onto the sidewalk. He had been shot down by the police and his fellow military troops ran to his aid. He died right there in the street. All of a sudden, the camera men turn their attention to a car trying to enter the hospital parking lot. And, they are talking so fast that I lost what they are saying. The gun fire became louder and I watched as bullets hit the car. The car then drove off and the camera men stayed on the fight between the police and the military.

Suddenly, the channel shows the Presidential Palace balcony. President Rafael Correa walks to the balcony and wave to his followers who stand below on the street. It was like a David Copperfield trick. One second the news is reporting he is still in the hospital, and the next he is on his palace balcony addressing his nation. It was still a war zone outside of my hospital, as the police were now on a mission to kill anyone who came close. They had failed at keeping their prisoner and they were pissed about it. For almost 30 minutes after the president had escaped the gun fire continued. Although, I was so relieve to see the president safe, I was still feeling insecure and fearful. I was ready for peace, for cease of fire. And, when it finally came I had never been so happy for silence in my entire life. President Correa was stronger than ever, he was on fire as he spoke to his country and I felt a sense of security knowing that he was back in charge. The military took post where the police should have been and people could finally get some sleeping knowing that their country was back in some sort of order.

October 1, 2010
Paul came to see me and I don't think I had ever enjoyed a hug as much as I did that one. My doctor and the pediatrician came to talk to me and see how I was feeling. We made a decision to stop my contraction medication that afternoon. And, I could begin walking to help my labor come on it's own. Paul and I decided to take a walk outside and look around. The windows in the front of my hospital had been shot out. There were boards up, and they had already replaced some of the window panes. We stepped outside and I was shocked. The Police Headquarters where the whole thing started was right there beside us, I could throw a rock and hit it. I didn't realize just how close it all was. The police hospital was just around the corner. We started to walk through the parking lot and I looked up at the catwalk that connected the hospital to the medical building across the street in front of the hospital. The glass of the catwalk was full of bullet wholes, some that only went through the front side and others that showed where bullets had traveled through both sides. I was completely shaken. I had been so close without realizing it.

Benji was on his way. We had endured a lot the night before and now I felt ready. I was so blessed to have such a great team of nurses and doctors taking care of me, and now I was ready to have this baby and get out of the hospital.


My victory and honor come from God alone. He is my refuge, a rock where no enemy can reach me. Psalm 62:7 NLT

The Walls...

We were startled awake to the sound of Zeke throwing up at 4:30 am. I think he may have eaten too much on our happy Saturday. He had an array of different foods, plus a good amount of watermelon seeds. So, needless to say we were up for the morning, all three of us and didn't get to take a nap until about 7:30. At 11:30 we woke. I was feeling more than depressed. I don't know if I can articulate the feeling that had taken over. I felt like a child, like I was 12 years old, and I didn't have the ability to make any decisions. Like I was married and pregnant at the age of 12 and I was sad. I didn't want to talk, I didn't want to move. I wanted to feel like an adult, but I felt trapped.

I couldn't tell you what day I got out of the hospital. I couldn't tell you what the day or date is. I know it is a day in September and the year is 2010. These walls have been closing in on me and I am losing my mind. I don't sleep well at night, with the baby partying and my sweet husbands light snore it is very difficult. Plus, I am not tired. I am in bed all day, and I find myself asleep at random times throughout. I just want things to be back to normal. Paul tried to get me to talk to him and all I could do was stare and tell him that it wasn't a good idea, I needed to be alone. He hadn't done anything wrong, hell he is doing everything more than right. Poor thing is cleaning, cooking, running after Zeke, checking on me constantly and trying to maintain his business all at the same time.

Finally, I snapped. "Get me out of this house. Now." I couldn't stand it anymore. The walls, they were coming down on me. I started crying. "Paul please, just take me out for a ride in the car. I need to get out of this house and see something, anything." Of course, he would move the Cotopaxi if I asked him too. He told me to give him a minute to think about where to go, so I got in the shower. And, I cried some more. I felt like I had cabin fever or something. I don't even know how many days I have been home from the hospital, it can't be too many.

So, he got me out of this bed, out of this house. Zeke was excited to have me go out the front door with them for once. He had on his sunglasses and was looking really cool. We went riding through the neighborhood first. Then he took me to get a brownie at the Hyper Market. We drove some more, but Paul made sure to go slow. He was worried about hitting bumps. I had the window down, and with every few miles I felt the life come back into me. Paul took me to Quito to do some site seeing, from the car window of course. And, I was finally coming back. Like a black and white photo that is slowly painted in. I was becoming brilliant, in living color. We were gone all afternoon and into the evening. And, when it was time to come back, I was OK. I was ready and not wanting to protest. I was inflated again and ready to return.

I am so thankful. My husband worried the entire time, but in the end it was worth it. I think he could see the difference in the girl he took out of the house and the woman he brought back home. I was refreshed and full of energy again. I was also exhausted, and from what? A car ride? Yes. It drained me, completely. Getting up to my room was a challenge, but I did it and I didn't say a word about being tired. I couldn't complain if I had to, I am so very appreciative that Paul took me out and helped me to find my sanity.

So, tomorrow I will be here again. All day in my bed. I will be on my iTouch, playing Lock 'n' roll, breeding fake fish, a little bit of Bejeweled 2, constant checks on Twitter and Facebook, and I think I can handle it. Tuesday I get to go to the doctor and then I will get another fresh-air fix! For now, I am going to bed. I should sleep very well tonight, and if I don't, well there is always tomorrow.

God please help me get through the next few weeks of bed rest. Give me mental strength and keep me busy. Help me to keep my sanity and help me to remember that You are in charge and that You are with me every second of everyday. Thank you Lord. In Your name and in the name of Your son Jesus Christ. Amen