Hindsight
Page 10
The wedding drew near and the time came to mail the invitations. I asked Troy about inviting his biological father, Skip. I couldn’t understand not wanting to pursue a relationship with his father. I still missed mine deeply.
“Please, Troy, let’s invite him,” I asked.
Troy gave in and Skip was delighted to receive his invitation. To our surprise, he even offered to pay for the rehearsal dinner. Troy hesitated, but I felt it was Skip’s way of trying to make up for his absence in Troy’s life.
**********
The big weekend arrived, with the rehearsal dinner ushering in the big event. I was a bit shocked when I met Skip for the first time. Troy looked identical to his father, except for the toupee, of course, and even though Troy’s brothers were complete opposites, I was smitten with both of them, as well.
On the second of December, with seventy-five of our closest friends and family, Troy and I prepared to take our vows as man and wife.
Troy’s mom and grandma seemed overjoyed, as did my mother, even though I’m sure she prayed that this would be the last wedding for her daughter.
For the second time, Howard Lee met me at the back of the church to walk me down the aisle. “Rhonda, are you absolutely sure this time? I don’t want to do this again.”
I laughed and answered, “Me, either. Let’s do it.”
I had no hesitation to become Mrs. Troy Madge as I looked down the aisle at the man waiting for me.
“Who gives this woman to wed this man?” Brother James asked.
“Her mother and I,” replied Howard Lee.
Troy took my hand and squeezed it tightly. There was a gentle strength in his soft hands. Our eyes met with a glistening that opened the window to our souls as we stood before God to take our vows.
“Troy, you may kiss your bride,” Brother James declared after we’d finished our vows.
I could not control the small drip from my nose, which had clung to the tip the entire ceremony, even through the sniffles. I reached to wipe it off before he kissed me, but Troy didn’t seem to care. He had accepted me for better or worse. His kiss lingered.
Brother James interrupted, “I now introduce to you Mr. and Mrs. Troy Madge.”
I wanted to skip, jump, run, anything, but my tight-fitting dress constricted me. Birdseed flew through the air as we left the church. The little poof in my hair was surely a nice attraction for birds in the area, where food would be plentiful for months to come.
Our limo awaited and drove us to the Little Rock Capitol Hotel for the reception. Food and drink welcomed us into the beautiful old building filled with twinkling lights and smells of the holiday season.
Troy and I were making our way to the dance floor when we heard our song, “Time and Tide.” It was hard to contain my happiness as Troy twirled me in his arms. When that song ended, the “Tennessee Waltz” induced laughter from everyone when Troy grabbed Mother and Howard Lee took my arm. Who knew this quiet, subdued man could tear up a dance floor? The split in the back of my dress may have increased in length, but I didn’t care.
This night was the beginning of a lifelong journey. The feeling of rest-assured confidence was unfamiliar. It came with knowing I had finally found the one.
FOURTEEN
“Behold, children are a gift of the Lord, the fruit of the womb is a reward.”
Psalm 127:3
Don Ho’s song, “Tiny Bubbles in the Wine,” was certainly appropriate for our honeymoon in Maui. I had never been to a more beautiful place in my life. In December, poinsettias grow on the side of the road much like wildflowers do in Tennessee during the spring.
Troy and I enjoyed reminiscing about every detail of our wedding and the week in paradise, but life moved on and it was time to get back to work. Double income with no kids opened doors to a full life. However, like most newly married couples, there were bumps in the road.
We had only been married a short time when Troy started to grumble about working for Kirsch, the manufacturer of drapery hardware. He’d grown up with an entrepreneurial heritage, beginning with his grandfather who had opened the drapery store Troy started working at when he was fifteen. Troy decided that he could open an installation business and install blinds and draperies for small companies in the area. Working for himself would not continue the secure income and benefits he was accustomed to, but my career afforded us a safety net, so I encouraged him to do whatever would make him happy.
I soon came to find out the source for Troy’s true joy was found in his toolbox.
“Hey, Rhonda, I think I’m going to build a deck.”
“Troy, let’s just hire someone to do it.”
“You don’t think I can build it, do you?”
“Well, actually, no.”
Those were the wrong words for me to say, but I hadn’t grown up with men in my family who were handy. Therefore, I assumed Troy wasn’t, either. He was determined to prove me wrong. It was the first time I saw signs of anger in him.
“Are you stressed, Troy? What is wrong?” I asked.
Not realizing it, I opened the floodgates.
“For one thing, you are driving me crazy leaving so many lights on in the house. When I drove up tonight, I sat and counted twelve lights on in different rooms. Why is that necessary? You can’t be upstairs and down at the same time,” he said with a smirk.
“I like a bright home. I don’t like being in the dark,” I replied.
“Our electric bill is going to be through the roof. I’m telling you right now to stop it. When you leave a room, turn those lights off. Do you understand?” he yelled.
Blessed be the peacemaker, echoed in my mind. So I said I was sorry and didn’t say another word.
The lights issue started to be a daily argument, with the exception of weekends. Fortunately, we had made friends with another newlywed couple, and almost every Friday night we got together with them for a competitive game of cards and good food. Thankfully, the weekend fun overshadowed the arguments from the week.
We shared a lot in common with our new friends Jess and Sam. Sam was another local rep in the pharmaceutical industry. Deep conversations about our life experiences were had over cards, and I decided to open up about my past and told them I’d been married twice before. Jess was shocked. I could tell it didn’t settle well with her. She didn’t say anything that night, but a couple of weeks later, I stopped by their home after work just to say hello. Jess wasn’t home yet, so I sat with Sam in the living room and chatted about the day’s work.
Jess walked in and the strangest look came across her face. Sam jumped up to give her a kiss, but her gaze was on me.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I asked.
“Well, actually, no. I’m not,” she answered. “I don’t like coming home to find my husband with a woman who is on her third husband.”
“Oh. I’m not sure what to say. I guess that means you don’t trust me,” I replied.
She didn’t have to respond. The look in her eyes said everything. I could feel the expression on my face reflecting the deep hurt she had thrust into my heart. I felt a single tear slide from the corner of my eye. I stood to leave, and neither of them tried to stop me.
The drive home was miserable.
Do all women think the same thing? If so, no one will trust me.
Did Jess think I was coming on to Sam? How could I ever make her believe that I would never do anything with her husband? The haunting thoughts were agonizing.
Troy came home shortly after I returned. I shared what happened and made up my mind right then that I would not tell anyone else about my past. Ever. No one needs to know the truth. The pain of someone else’s judgment was unbearable. I refuse to put myself in that situation again.
A couple of weeks passed before we heard from Jess and Sam again. The awkwardness of the first night was strangling. We never mentioned what happened in their home, or my past for that matter. I had hoped she would apologize, but that was wishful thinking on my part. I made
a point to never be alone again with Sam.
**********
I felt a need to make everyone around me happy, including my husband. I was determined to make my marriage work, although there were days I questioned whether or not I could. My new husband was a controller. He had to have power over every situation, so to make life easier, I relented.
Troy proved he could build by constructing the biggest deck in the neighborhood. I praised him for his work and apologized for doubting him. It seemed I was always the one having to say those words.
After two years of marriage, the fights escalated and the familiar, troublesome thoughts of leaving returned.
How can I live this way?
Why am I the one who always has to say I’m sorry?
I knew without a doubt that if this were my first marriage, I would not stay. I felt trapped, but how could I get a third divorce? If I left him, I’d be faced with either living alone the rest of my life or getting married a fourth time. Mother’s words echoed about shoeing the stupid horse all the way around.
I was in a doctor’s office one day, making a sales call, and I happened to overhear a conversation about counseling for couples. I really didn’t know anything about it but decided to ask Troy what he thought. To my surprise, he told me to find a therapist and he would go with me.
I found a counselor and scheduled our first session, a two-hour appointment. We briefly discussed our background together and why we needed help. I became uncomfortable knowing that unless we were honest with him and each other, we would not receive the help we needed.
I confessed, “I cannot stand living with a man who feels he is always right and has to be in control of every situation.”
Troy complained, “Rhonda leaves all the lights on in the house, and regardless of what I say, she doesn’t change. She doesn’t listen to me.”
The counselor began to ask Troy deep questions about his past. Troy revealed many of the stories I had heard before, but this time it was as though I was hearing them for the first time. They talked in detail about his father and being raised by an alcoholic mother who married multiple times in search of happiness.
All of a sudden the counselor said, “Troy, I believe that around the time you entered puberty, you looked at your family and decided that you were not going to be like them. You decided to take control.”
I was shocked. I had never thought about that before. Troy could have wandered on the same path as his family, but he didn’t; he chose the road less traveled. For the first time, I looked at my man through eyes of respect; the one thing every man desired.
Then Mr. Counselor looked at Troy and said, “Son, I will also tell you that you will add years to your life by reducing your stress if you will simply turn off the lights yourself without saying a word to Rhonda.”
I did the happy dance in that man’s office. It was the best $100 I had ever spent.
Something significant happened that day. Our level of commitment deepened, and with that came the desire to have a family.
**********
We only tried for a couple of months before I was able to announce, “Troy, we are having a baby!”
It was a surreal feeling to know I had a child growing within me. Will it be a boy or girl? What will he or she look like?
What if something is wrong with the baby?
Stop. I chose to not think about anything going wrong. We wanted to tell the world that we were going to be parents. This would be the first grandbaby in both families.
Our joy was short lived. Six weeks later I began to bleed. I screamed, “There’s blood!”
Troy came running. He tried to console me as we called the doctor’s office. We were told to come in immediately.
An ultrasound confirmed our fears. We left that day with a level of sadness that neither of us had experienced before. We were forced to say good-bye to a precious life we wanted with all our hearts. The doctor tried to encourage us by telling us miscarriages were very common and we would be able to try again after four months.
God could have prevented this.
Death. More death.
Why, God? Couldn’t You have done something?
Once again I found myself asking the same questions that I asked when Daddy died. Did I expect an answer this time? We felt so alone in our grief, miles apart from family.
Although we continued to mourn the loss of our child, we did learn from others that miscarriages are common. Somehow, that was helpful and brought hope. Four months later we tried again, and just as quickly as before, I was carrying a child. I was scared to death that I would do something wrong. After all, had it been my fault that I lost my first baby? The doctor assured me that I should go about life as normal.
Two months later, I experienced miscarriage number two.
I grew weary and depressed.
Was God punishing me for the lifestyle I had lived?
People would say how sorry they were for us, but I preferred not to hear anything. “I’m sorry” seemed to always come after losing someone and I couldn’t handle hearing those words again.
Troy and I were nestled on the couch when he surprised me with his next words.
“Rhonda, maybe we should go to church. Isn’t that where people go when they need help?”
He was asking the wrong person. I wasn’t convinced, but I surprised myself by answering, “Sure. Why not?”
**********
The following Sunday, we found ourselves in a local church. There were no hymns or memorized rhetoric. Actually, people seemed to really be passionate about being there. We liked it and it made us feel as though we were doing something right.
Another four months passed, and we tried for another baby. Once again the pregnancy test was positive. Our doctor explained that if I should miscarry once again, I was to go straight to an infertility specialist as soon as possible, meaning within the hour of the first sign of blood.
Two months later I had my third miscarriage.
Troy and I called the specialist and we were told to get to the clinic quickly. We’d be given tests to provide answers as to why this was happening. We were both numb by this point and wanted a solution.
The doctor walked in our room and said, “I believe I have found your problem and it’s rather simple to fix. You are producing an antibody that attacks the fetus. There is evidence to prove that taking a baby aspirin every day will destroy the antibody and you will be able to carry a baby full term.”
“It could really be that easy?” I asked.
He explained that he had seen success many times. “I want you to start taking a baby aspirin today, but you need to wait the four-month period again before trying to get pregnant to allow your body a chance to recover.”
Time passed and I became pregnant for the fourth time. I took the aspirin each morning as prescribed. Eight weeks passed. Then ten weeks, then twelve.
Petrified, we went in for an ultrasound. What if we have gotten our hopes up for nothing? The ultrasound nurse started the search as she pressed my stomach. Suddenly, I heard an unfamiliar sound, the most beautiful my ears had ever heard—the heartbeat of our baby.
“Oh, Troy…”
Our dreams were coming true. We were having a baby. We called our parents to share the news. Mother had been a rock through this whole ordeal and I missed her terribly. I wanted to be close to her again as the journey of parenthood was about to begin. We began to wonder if we’d want to raise a child in Michigan so far away from family.
Not only that, but I missed living in the South. The month of April brought dogwood blossoms in the hills of Tennessee, while dirty snow piles lingered on our streets in Canton, Michigan. I wanted to move home and raise our baby as a Southerner.
After a little research, I found out there was an opening with my company in Chattanooga, Tennessee, only four hours from Mother and Howard Lee. The company said they were willing to relocate me, and since Troy had established his own business, he could easily move.
We quickly settled into life in this picturesque community. Thankfully my new sales territory was small, which meant after I had the baby, I could pick up our little one every day at a decent hour. Troy’s reputation as an installer presented him with work the very first week.
I really couldn’t believe our luck and how everything fell into place, just like it did when we left Little Rock. I never thought of myself as lucky, but maybe I was. What else could have caused our lives to come together so nicely?
Our favorite time came when we went to bed at night. There was such tenderness in the stroke of Troy’s hand over my stomach, followed by the wonder and excitement as we watched the baby kick and turn.
“Wow, it says that childbirth is the worse pain known to mankind,” Troy announced one evening while reading a pregnancy book.
“And why on earth would you choose to read that to me?”
He laughed. “Don’t worry. It will be worth it.”
I really had not thought about the pain. I just couldn’t wait to find out if the baby was a boy or a girl. We decided to wait until the delivery to find out since life doesn’t offer many opportunities to be really surprised. This would be one.
One month before my due date, our doctor announced that the baby was breach and scheduled a Cesarean section.
The date was set for the third of September. Both mothers came to Soddy Daisy the day before to have dinner and go to the hospital together. I worked hard in the house most of the day to prepare for our baby’s arrival. With dinner on the stove and excitement bubbling over, I realized my back hurt. This was followed by a contraction.
“Troy, I think you should call the doctor.”
As he hung up the phone, he said we had to get to the hospital quickly. No chances could be taken with a breach baby.
One thing about Troy is that he follows the law, even with his wife having contractions in the front seat next to him. I told him to get me to the hospital and forget about the speed limit. The moms were in the backseat, holding on for dear life when suddenly a cop pulled out behind us from a side road. Troy’s mom rolled down her window and flung her body halfway out, screaming, “We are having a baby!”