The Myth of Divorce & Facebook as God's Scalpel

"There are those who believe it is simple selfishness that leads people to divorce;

for those of us who have lived it, it's hard to see why anyone would

rip out their veins for some immature or narcissistic desire

to get what they want, because that is what [divorce] feels like."

Wendy Swallow in Breaking Apart

It wasn't that I didn't know divorce was gut-wrenching, horrifying, difficult . . . fill in the blank. My mom had been divorced. I have family members who have been divorced. I have friends, too many to stop and count, who have been divorced. It was always before me as I packed up possessions, met with a lawyer, called friends to tell them, and did the never-ending tasks that make up divorce.

Still, the day I pulled out the eight boxes of photographs (this was before digital cameras were common), sat down, and sorted through hundreds--if not thousands--of pictures was the day that I understood a new truth: the divorce was merely a legal instrument, a nod from the state that said, "Yes. We hear that you have come to a place at which you believe that this relationshp is untenable. We will no longer hold you responsible for each other in any way. We won't think about you as a set anymore. Go your own ways and forget this ever happened."

But sitting on that floor surrounded by 17 years of recorded life, I got it: the divorce that people want--that I wanted--was really a myth. There is no forgetting. I could cut my ex-husband out of the photograph, but I could not excise him from the memory of the moment. Even now, I could more elegantly Photoshop him out of the pictures of my time touring with Covenant Players, but there was no splitting the shared memories, or the shared relationships.

Over the last eight years, the myth has been underscored again and again. A marriage is made up of at least a thousand connections (even when the most important and intimate connections have been broken). Friendships, family, experiences, books read, travel, dreams, places lived . . . I could go on and on and on and on and on.

The pictures weren't just of him and me; they had others in them. Who gets cut out of the picture? Who leaves the friendship?

Shared experiences are intimate connections. Take our dear close friend who died while we were married. Her death was an agonizing blow for both of us. We had toured with her for a year. She was thisclose to us. Every year on the anniversary of her death and of her birth, I mourn quietly. There is only one other person in this world who knows my particular loss, who understands why I can barely breathe two days of the year. I can explain it to my (present) husband, but he didn't know her and he simply can't fully grasp the grief.

Nor is there a way to cover over the loss of relationship with my ex-husband's mother and brother, whom I loved dearly and miss in a way I cannot articulate. She was my mom, he was my brother. And it's worse than if they had died, because I know that they are just half a continent away, living, breathing, and yet they might as well be on the moon. I miss them just about every day.

Wendy Swallow, in Breaking Apart, states that "As a fantasy, divorce has a lot to recommend it. A good divorce fantasy can feel like an open window in a life otherwise shuttered in on itself. It can comfort a heart stinging from marital strife . . . Most people, though, will tell you that divorce is a nightmare rather than a fantasy. Many, in fact, will tell you it is the American nightmare of the late twentieth century. And in may ways they are right."

Why am I writing all of this? Am I regretting my divorce? Did I make a mistake by divorcing my ex-husband?

I am writing this because Facebook brought me, well, us, to another juncture at which I have been confronted with the myth yet again. Just about daily.

But to back up one step: No, I don't regret my divorce. I do regret the sin on both of our parts that led us to that specious place. I hate that what God put together someone did put asunder, including the two of us. Dan Allender, in Intimate Allies, puts it succinctly: "Our only option in all encounters is to glorify or to degrade." My first marriage was more about the latter and less about the former.

I am grateful for my present husband and for the healing and redemption I have found in my second marriage. But make no mistake: God has used this second marriage to show me where I had deceived myself in my first marriage. The sinful behaviors that I used to blame on the ex-husband are still with me, even though he is not. I am keenly aware (as God has revealed thus far) of where I failed/fell down/sinned. And I am flinchingly grateful that God will continue to reveal my heart to me as I live in this second marriage.

Back to Facebook. My ex-husband has a profile. How do I know? Because every time he friends or is friended by one of my friends, I get an update: "Ex-Husband is now friends with Good Friend!" Yippee! Skippy! Yea!

At first, this sent me reeling. I felt intruded upon and very proprietary of my friends. This was my turf! Hadn't I divorced him so that I wouldn't have to think about him, see him, know his movements . . . so I could pretend he didn't exist? It's not that I bore him malice; I actually wanted good for him and desired a certain reconciliation. Earlier this year, when going through a serious medical issue, I had very much wished that I could speak with him and apologize for the things God had brought to light.

And those desires were still there, just . . . at a distance (cue Bette Midler).

Ah, but there he is. A real person. Alive. Friends with my friends. Enjoying Facebook. And again I am Faced(!) with the reality that divorce is a myth: our two lives are joined by those thousands of connections that were formed throughout 17 years.

In the past month as I have watched the Facebook Status Updates, I have become aware of a question--perhaps a call?--from God: What would redemption do to the myth? What would redemption even look like between two people who used to be one and now they aren't, but who have the memories of being one? And memories of putting the oneness asunder?

As the status updates have continued, I have found myself beginning to prayerfully reflect upon each friendship that is shared, the story that is of a fabric. I am grateful that just because the marriage died doesn't mean that those thousand connections died--for either one of us. I ponder my first marriage a little and ask God to continue to show me the unfaced-sin in my own heart.

I realize that Facebook offers an opportunity to turn the myth on its head. As I take joy in the longevity and richness of all those shared connections (over 50 and counting!) and I continue to ask God to "Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting" (Ps. 139.23-24), I am more divorced than I have ever been. What I held onto was the selfishness (my friends, my turf) and the anger ("I will cut him out of the pictures!") and the old story of a dead marriage ("I refuse to remember him; he is dead to me.").

God is a Redeemer. Redemption is the story of the Bible, told and retold and being retold now. We are a people of the Book. I am called to live out the Gospel, to repent and beg mercy and "forgive and cancel debts and love boldly" (Allender). It is good to hunger for reconciliation and to be open to what it might look like in this cyber-rich twenty-first century.

What's it looking like is that Facebook gives me an opportunity to remember my first marriage and husband in a new way, as one for whom much, much, much has been forgiven and given back and made new.

It is a taste--the briefest, most subtly-exquisite taste--of heaven: repentance, forgiveness, reconciliation, fellowship, worship of the Redeemer. When all myths die at the feet of Reality.

Dear Thaddeus Evan:

I think I didn't write this on your birthday because I am trying to deny that you are really growing up. Every cliche about the time flying and you growing so fast, etc., is true. I have enjoyed every day, every stage that has led us to your fourth birthday. You are the most loveable sinner I have ever known!

This year you have matured a lot. Some of it was natural progression and some of it was forced on you. You graduated to big-boy underpants--and you did it in under two weeks. I am forever grateful to the book Everyone Poops which made pooping on the potty so much fun for you!

You also relinquished your binkies (the four that you slept with plus the six that you kept in various areas of our house). I say relinquished instead of gave up because there was no giving on your part. It was not your idea, nor a good idea to your way of thinking. However, once we explained that other children needed your binkies, you reluctantly consented to send them to those poor needy urchins.

This summer you made friends with the pool. The first few weeks you wouldn't move off the steps of Uncle Matt and Auntie Bea's pool. But one afternoon, when Auntie Julie was in the pool watching you while I was at an appointment, she coaxed you off the steps and there was no looking back for you! Auntie Julie is an expert at getting people to do things they don't know they want to do!!

You became a fish and it became impossible to get you out of the pool! With your water wings on, you paddled merrily all over the pool with "large Superman" (who is actually all of three inches high) in one hand and a water rocket in the other. Auntie Julie's next task is to get you to simply shake the water out of your eyes when you are splashed, rather than insisting on going to the edge of the pool and wiping your eyes with a towel! Next year.

As you read this years from now, Thad, you probably willl think, "Large Superman? Three inches high?" Large Superman has been your security blanket, rarely leaving your hand. In fact, you were so attached that we got a spare on ebay incase Large Superman ever flew away. Your love of Superman has only grown over the last two years. This year you insisted on a Superman costume again AND a Superman-themed birthday party.

You also have matured relationally. You revel in your cousins and when all of you are together you are a tribe. You adore Eliza and you look up to Andy. You are learning to share and to hold your own. You also enjoy Bible study childcare--there are six boys in the room and by the time I come pick you up, you are spent!

You are growing intellectually, too! You love preschool and I couldn't have been prouder at the parent-teacher conference. You are a sponge and very curious: why, why, why to the seventh level down. And I am simply not smart enough to explain the physics and trigonometry behind it all. So I give the best answer I have: "Let's ask Daddy when he gets home; I'm sure he knows!"

You know your ABCs (now that you have just recently decided to allow L into the alphabet). You can count to 30 two times out of five attempts: you don't like 14 and 15 and you don't like me forcing them on you! You have decided you want to be called Thad and I am convinced it's because you don't want to learn to write Thaddeus. But you write Thad really well and you take pride in signing your name. Tonight you brought a bag of marshmallows to me on which you had "written" something. You translated for me: "I love Dad and I love Mama, and I love Thaddeus and we have Christianson love."

One of your weaknesses is that you are a budding perfectionist. You often will balk at doing something until you know you can do it perfectly, and you are hard on yourself when something you do isn't up to your standards. So when an A doesn't meet perfectly at the top, you will cross it out and say, "I didn't do it right!" Daddy and I are working at making sure we ease up on ourselves so you don't get the idea that perfection is the goal.

You also have a temper! I would love to say I don't know where it comes from, but I know myself too well. Daddy and I have tried to gather wise counsel and also read and re-read Love and Logic Magic for Early Childhood. We are so pleased wth the progress you have made in handling your anger. We have stressed to you that it is okay to feel anger and to express it in ways that don't hurt yourself or others. You have really caught on well.

We have had an interesting year. I had several small strokes and a surgical procedure to repair a dissecting carotid aneurysm. The week that I was in the hospital was the first time that you and I hadn't slept in the same house since you were born. We were so fortunate to have Uncle Matt and Auntie Bea close by, and you just rolled with the crisis and bedded down with them quite nicely! We both survived the separation and are probably better for it!

You also are going to church and Sunday School and enjoy Sunday School a lot. I am so thrilled at the Biblical education you are getting. My deepest, fondest, most passionate dream/prayer/desire for you is that you know God, know His love for you and are passionate to love others out of His love. I believe knowing His word is the surest foundation for my dream for you being realized. You are conversant about God and Jesus, and often will talk about Jesus dying on the cross. You love Bible stories and will listen to 10 in a row at bedtime and still want more. Right now Samson has caught your fancy. You can't understand why he would let a girl get the best of him!

When you were still riding around in my tummy, I hoped that when you finally talked you would call me Mama. However, from the first time that you addressed me, it has been Mom. And of course, because it was you and said in your inimitable way, Mom was wonderful and I didn't give Mama another thought.Then, just after I came home from the hospital, you started calling me Mama. Just like that. And it is said with such affection and love, that it is . . . breathtaking. I thought maybe it would taper off, but it hasn't and it has been a wonderful gift to hear you call me Mama.

Along with my new name, you also have become very cuddily and love to, what you call, "snuggle-buggle-wuggle" with me. Several times a day you make sure to tell me that I am your best mama, that you love me so much . . . You rub your cheek on mine and pat my other cheek with your hand. It's heaven.

You ADORE your dad!!! The two of you have loads of fun adventuring together around the house and outside with swords and capes and pirate treasure and forts . . . You two have created a whole ongoing story about Captain T-Addeus and D-Daddeus with sidekicks Chaser the Dog, Superman, Batman, and LarryBoy. You wrestle, you chase, you play at the Man Store (Menards and Home Depot), you burp . . . . you glory in each other and your shared testosterone. It's a beautiful, gross thing to behold!

You also are getting into jokes. Like any toddler-preschooler, your made-up jokes put you into hysterics while Daddy and I are grinning at your silliness. You are starting to get the humor of some jokes and your favorite is "Why does the chicken cross the road?" and "Why did the elephant paint his toenails purple?" You also like a good knock-knock joke and again, make them up at your whim!

On a day-to-day level, you are simply delightful and a joy. You are witty, funny, active, imaginative (you carry on whole conversations with yourself and imaginary friends), and creative. You love playing what Auntie Shannon and Uncle Dude used to call "People". Superheroes, stuffed animals, pencils, Little People all become characters in your elaborate play. It is common for you to command Daddy or me: "Make LarryBoy talk! Make Large Superman talk!" Daddy is better at this than me!!!

You love to make art and enjoy painting, coloring, drawing on any kind of paper that is around. I have made an art wall for you and you take real pride in putting up your artwork. As the collection has grown, you enjoy rearranging what will be on top and what needs some touch-up work.

You are 39.5" tall and you hover at 35 pounds. You have loooonnnngggg legs. Your eyes are a lovely hazel that favor green, particularly when you wear green (which I stock your wardrobe with!). Your hair is a dark blond right now and unfortuntely, you got your mama's pale complexion! You also drew the short stick and have your daddy's allergies and so you take Zyrtec and Nasonex every day, something that you remind me daily is boring and that you don't like. Although I ask if you want to pick out your clothes, you usually tell me to do it.

In short, you are a gift from God! A week doesn't go by that Dad and I don't look at each other and express how great you are, how blessed we are, and wonderful God is to have given you to us. You inspire us to be better people, better lovers of God and each other, better parents. There is a saying that to have a child is to have your heart go walking around outside your body and that is so profoundly true. I get sick to my stomach when I think of harm coming to you, from others or from me. I so want you to be able to be safe and yet I know the call for me is to prepare you to be God's man in whatever situation.

Lately we have been talking about your name and I told you again what it meant: brave and kindhearted. You are both of those things and I pray you will grow into the fullness of what God defines those terms to be. You are well on your way, all thanks to God.

Thaddeus, Thad: I love you so much. Thank you for four wonderful years. I look forward to the next year . . . and pray it goes SLOWLY!

All my love,

Mama

Need

Pete and I have an ongoing conversation with TEWC about the difference between want and need, which is a conversation we also have with ourselves. TEWC pretty much gets it and I have been proud of him when we have been in his second home, our local Target, and he tells me he wants something "but I don't need it, Mama."

I enjoy gifts. I equally enjoy giving to getting, but make no mistake: I love getting gifts. It is probably my primary love language. I am not sure how it developed in me, but I just know that when I get a gift, it can be very small, I feel loved by the giver. So it follows that need and want get very mixed up for me.

Trying to sort it out is like trying to untangle the knot of electronics cords beneath your desk. It is time consuming. It takes patience. It can seem hopeless if you know you can't get rid of any of the wires and are pretty much convinced that in six months you will be under the desk untangling it all again.

The unending floods in Iowa and the devastating tornados in Parkersburg, IA and Hugo, MN (yes, one-half mile from where we live) have brought home to me, again, how important it is to hold onto things very loosely. Because they can easily just float away.

If, twenty minutes after the tornado siren sounded, I stood up in my basement and looked around to see most of my house and its contents strewn as far away as a couple miles, what would I search for first?

If I was standing behind a wall of sandbags that ring my house and the water came up to the second bag from the top, what would I evacuate first (after my family)?

What do I need? What is most important? Where do I find my core identity and feeling of eternal security?

"Lament for the Maker" by Joe Scanlan

an updated version of

"Lament for the Makaris"

by William Dunbar

I who was full of health and gladness,

Am troubled now with great sickness,

And feebled by infirmity—

Fear of death unsettles me.

Our pleasure here is all vain glory,

This false world is transitory,

The flesh is porous, and Fate is sly—

Fear of death unsettles me.

The state of man does change and vary,

Now sound, now sick, now blithe, now sorry,

Now dancing and merry, now like to die—

Fear of death unsettles me.

***

Unto the end we'll scrutinize,

The blooming of forsythias,

In admirable absurdity—

Fear of death unsettles me.

And since we'll devote all our years,

To making things that disappear,

We'll have no use for this frail plea:

Fear of death unsettles me.

Fear of death unsettles me.

Fear of death unsettles me.

http://www.thingsthatfall.com/lament.php

Near-Life Experience, Part III (The Conclusion, So Far)

From: Kirsten Christianson
Sent: Tuesday, May 20, 2008 7:49 AM
Subject: Stroke/Aneurysm Recovery or "You Are So Lucky to Be Alive"

Thank you for your thoughts, prayers, cards, e-mail and phone calls over the past three weeks (it seems like three years to me). A lot of people have asked for an update and so I thought I would send out another note. If this is your first update (I have had limited access to my address book), you can get the story from the beginning by reading from the bottom! I won’t send out anymore updates unless you ask, but I ask for your continued prayers. I am still not full time on e-mail and phone, so if you contact me please don’t despair! I will get back to you!

I have wanted to send this out for about one week, but I have wrestled with the content. There are two components to this recovery: the physical and the psychospiritual. To say that the past month has been life changing just begins to describe the experience.

I was released from the hospital on Friday, April 25. I was so grateful to get sprung! I was discharged with a prescription for Plavix, an anti-platelet medication, and instructions to go home and do nothing. Bo. Ring. I was released into the care of my family who have followed doctor’s orders with frightening precision.

So for the next two weeks Thad and I spent our days at Uncle Matt & Aunt Bea’s house. We were dropped off by Daddy in the morning and picked up in the evening. We are so grateful to Aunties Bea and Julie, and Cousins Naomi and Abigail for the visits, extraordinary care, meals, and servanthood. The Family Christianson would have been up a creek without a BOAT let alone a paddle without them!

I had a follow-up ophthalmology appointment about 10 days ago. Dr. Terry dilated my eyes and took about 30 pictures of my eyeballs (amazing). He showed me four pea-sized areas of damage in the right eyeball. Now that he has the pictures, he will be able to track progress when he follows me every six weeks over the next six months.

Last week was my first follow-up appointment with my neurology team (I have a neurology team!). Dr. Shah showed me several video clips of the deployment of the stents during the angiogram procedure. It was fascinating and also made me a little woozy. The three stents start at just below my jaw line and continue up behind and almost to the top of my right ear, stopping right at the base of my brain. I don’t feel them and the soreness is now gone.

The news was hopeful. My recovery is progressing. I had worried that the strokes, the aneurysms and the stents would prevent me from attempting to have one more baby. While the neuro team didn’t make any promises, they said that they would move up the six-month angiogram to three months (end of July) and if everything looked good, we could then try for one more baby. I will have to stay on Plavix and the aspirin for the pregnancy. So at least I have some hope!

Physically, I still tire quickly. I think part of that is the hospitalization, part of it is being post-operation, and part of it is that I lost so much blood during the last angiogram. The neuro team has released me to regular activity. The biggest change is that I am to be very protective of my neck. Right now that is no problem because I am a little paranoid!

I am still having issues with my eyes and last night had a particularly scary bout of impaired eyesight. For the first time it was in the left eye as well as the right. So I am waiting to hear back from the neuro team and the ophthalmologist.

Having said all of the above, I am overwhelmed with gratitude to God for my life. As I was riding down to the University Hospital in the ambulance, I knew I was ready to see God; I had no qualms or regrets. But I also knew that there were several people to whom I still wanted to say things, and I didn’t want to leave Pete and Thad. I wasn’t ready. So I told God that I trusted Him and if this was the day, this was the day, but I would love a chance to love people better and longer before dying.

Honestly, I feel the psychospiritual recovery is the bigger issue. I wrestle at times with fear and it can feel overwhelming. I am trying to spend a lot of quiet time reading and listening for God’s Word. I think it will all take time.

The biggest epiphany I’ve had: Nothing has changed. I’ve changed, but the truth of my life has not. It’s just I am more keenly aware that God does know the number of my days and I do not. John Piper preached a sermon a number of years ago, while he was in the midst of his cancer treatment, entitled “Don’t Waste Your Cancer.” I have taken that to heart, offering the strokes and aneurysms to God and looking at this time as an opportunity God has given me. It’s an invitation to join Christ in His sufferings and to enjoy the sweet fellowship that really can only be found in such circumstances.

I really cannot thank everyone enough for all of the support I have received. Thank you seems so inadequate, but I trust you will receive my gratitude in all its meaning and strength.

With gratitude and joy,


Kϊrsten

A Near Life Experience, Part 2

From: Kirsten Christianson
Sent: Friday, April 25, 2008 6:13 PM
To: 'Kirsten Christianson'
Subject: News/Updates/Prayer Requests

For those of you who are getting this news for the first time, my apologies. I had limited access to my e-mail when the events below unfolded. Feel free to read the bottom e-mail first so you are up-to-speed!

Thank you to everyone who has prayed. It has made a difference in my countenance, bravery and hope. As you know I have been diagnosed with two dissecting aneurysms (one mostly healed, one not). When I wrote the last e-mail, the hope was that they unhealed one could be treated through medicine. I was looking forward to getting out of the hospital Thursday morning.

However, Thursday I woke up with a painful headache and several blind spots that came and went in my field-of-vision. After some talk, consultations and exams, I was wheeled into surgery for another angiogram to confirm what was suspected—the left aneurysm was deteriorating and throwing clots. During the angiogram they were able to see that the aneurysm was much worse than originally thought and the doctors ended up putting three (rather than the anticipated one) stents into my carotid artery and then rebuilding the artery. After four hours of work, they were satisfied with the blood flow and ended the procedure.

Thursday night I was in quite a bit of pain. This morning I awoke with a permanent black patch in my right eye's field-of-vision. I was emergently sent to the ophthalmologist who did several tests and diagnosed me with having several retinal infarctions. Mostly likely, between the time I discovered the blind spot and the time we made it into the operating room, the aneurysm "threw" several clots up into my retina. The ophthalmologist is unsure whether plain sight will return to my right eye. Right now, it is as though I have a sheath of black gauze hanging off my eyelid. They told me only time will tell.

Dr. Shah showed me the pictures from my procedure before discharging me. It was sobering. Basically, the right side of my brain was getting very limited blood and oxygen. Three inches of the right carotid artery was almost completely blocked. Dr. Shah told me that if we had not caught this there was a greater than 80% chance that I would have had a catastrophic stroke in the near future. Needless to say, I am very grateful for my life. I was quite terrified yesterday as I was wheeled into the operating room.

Our family has rallied around us and Thad has enjoyed a lot of time at his aunt and uncles. I also had my first ride in an ambulance—with lights and sirens, too! I met some wonderful people at the hospital. I had a private room for all but five minutes of my stay—and I really liked my roommate. We had to laugh when we found out each other's situations. At 66, she was in for a tonsillectomy while at 43, I was in for stents! The stay at the hospital was by far the best hospital experience I have ever had. The nurses and doctors were incredible and the level of care was everything I could have wished for if I had the opportunity.

My prognosis is good. I need to take it easy for the next week or so. Dr. Shah said that with this procedure, my stroke risk is in the single digits through this aneurysm. I will be monitored regularly for the other aneurysm. I feel very blessed and incredibly glad to be HOME! Hopefully the headaches will fade out over the next two to three months, and take the black gauze with it.

Thanks again, for all y our wonderful notes, prayers and wishes. I truly felt surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses!

Kϊrsten

a Near-Life Experience, Part I

From: Kirsten [mailto:]
Sent: Wednesday, April 23, 2008 10:19 PM
To: 'Kirsten'
Subject: a Little News & a Prayer Request

I am typing this from Fairview University of Minnesota Medical Center in Minneapolis, where the doctors have diagnosed me with two “dissecting aneurysms”, one on each carotid artery, just below my skull. (Just a little word of caution: I am on some pain medication as I am writing this, so feel free to giggle where called for. Apparently, yesterday when I was asked if there were incidents of stroke in my family history, I replied, “The man wanted to buy more cows, but he ran out of money.” So you are forewarned!)

Thankfully, my aneurysms are not in my brain and so are far less dangerous than those that are. Still, they do still pose a danger and need to be addressed immediately. A dissecting aneurysm is a tear that occurs in the wall of the artery so that blood gets in between the inner part of the wall and the outer part of the wall. As blood collects in the “pocket”, it restricts blood and oxygen flow to the brain and if it doesn’t make its way back into the artery, it will burst. Right now, in my aneurysm, the blood makes its way back into the artery through the inner wall. However, the doctors have found that my arterial walls, in general, are quite weak and so want to correct this problem.

The aneurysm on the left appears to be older and healed over. Blood flow to the brain is minimally restricted. The one on the right is new and blood and oxygen flow is fairly restricted, so it needs to be treated. I have had countless CAT scans (well, at least four), several MRI’s, one MRA, an angiogram, and an ultrasound of my head (weird experience!).

The hope is that this aneurysm can be healed medically—meaning through medicine. Currently I am taking one aspirin a day and a drug called Plavix. The aspirin thins the blood and the Plavix restricts the blood from forming platelets. However, if tomorrow’s contrast CAT scan shows poor blood flow or any other complications, then they will put in a stent (made up of material and fabric) to reinforce the weak wall of the artery. Needless to say, that is an invasive and more risky treatment and will require more time in the hospital.

I have been suffering with severe headaches for about four months. I thought they were sinus headaches and have been on a couple courses of antibiotics. Two weeks ago, I had a headache that was excruciating and included an aura. This motivated me to go to the doctor again last week. Tests were ordered for this week. However, last weekend I acquired several new symptoms, including a numb face, vertigo and nasusea. Monday evening I went to the ER near our house and then was transported to the main hospital just after midnight.

Given all that has happened, everything has gone very smoothly. Thad is staying with my Aunt Bea and Uncle Matt and is happy as a lark. Pete has been just incredible in every way. My time in the hospital has been the best I have ever experienced. The level of care and the kindness extended by the doctors and staff has helped Pete and me feel confident and supported.

Thoughts and prayers are very much appreciated. I will let you know how it all turns out once I find out—in the next few days.

Kϊrsten