I am an assistant principal in a middle school (grades 6-8). When I have to search a student's cell phone, I often get sick to my stomach at what I find. It gets worse and worse every year.
Sometimes I would just sit on our bed, knees up to my chest, and stare out the window, wondering what in the world just happened to us. We had five teens and two nine-year-olds in the house. And I homeschool. If we had marriage issues, it didn’t really matter because we were simply in survival mode and I had no room to even freak out.
"Days after his funeral, I stared at our dirty clothes basket that sat atop our dryer, knowing his clothes were inside. I sighed so deeply. Before me was the last load of laundry I would ever wash for that sweet man. "
"The reason for this blunt post is that I care for you. My husband and I spent many years in a miserable state. I’m ashamed to tell you that I was guilty of several of the points I listed."
I am no stranger to the six-week postpartum permission slip to tell my husband he got the green light to have sex! Been there, done that, four times already—but this time was different...
