People say that the first year of marriage is the most challenging, which is why it’s coined the year of “paper”. However, for my husband Mike and I, the first couple of years were relatively blissful. People around us would say we were still in the honeymoon phase, which was true. We seemed to be able to agree on most things and there were no shocking secrets being revealed early on.

Needless to say, our marriage was smooth sailing until the fourth year began. There were a lot of milestones for us that year — I completed my master’s degree in art education a week prior to receiving the keys to our very first home. We also had our first mission trip to Africa planned for the next month. Life was busy, but in a fruitful way.

But our path took a turn when I went into the doctor’s office to receive my 10+ vaccinations for our mission trip. Prior to my appointment, we had been extremely busy cleaning and renovating our new home and I didn’t realize that my period was late. I asked the nurse if I should get tested before receiving the vaccinations, and she told me that would be wise. Well, the results came in and I tested positive.

I was shocked and drove home in a daze. Mike was the first person I told and his jaw literally dropped, but he was extremely excited for the new addition to our little family. The downside was that I would no longer be able to go on our mission trip, but as disappointed as we were, we knew there would be other opportunities in the future. We could not help but begin daydreaming of all the family activities we would plan with the child residing in my womb. 

A week and a half later, I noticed there was a speck of blood when I went to use the restroom. I began to worry, but decided I would wait it out and see, since it was quite common for women to experience spotting during pregnancy. As much as I tried to tell myself things were OK, anxiety crept up within me. Over the next few days, the bleeding grew heavier and I went to see a couple doctors. They ran blood work, but it would be several days before we received the results. At that point, I already knew I was having a miscarriage, and everything passed through naturally like a heavier, more painful version of a menstrual cycle. I was thankful I did not need surgery for everything to pass, but it did not cause the pain I felt to subside.

Mike and I knew that there was a good reason God did not allow the pregnancy to come to full term, and we were sure it was for the best. However, it was difficult for us to process what we had just experienced — one moment we were elated and full of joy about becoming parents, and a couple weeks later we were full of grief due to our loss. It was as though someone had given us an incredible gift, only to have it taken back.

We found out later that it is quite common for women to miscarry, especially early on in the pregnancy. However, no one really talks about it because it can be depressing and shameful to share. It was hard for me not to wonder if it was our fault. Had I been working too much on the house? Was I too stressed? Did I not eat the right foods? Was there something wrong with my body? In the end, we decided we would wait and try again to have a baby in the next few months.

A few months passed and we found out I was pregnant again! As excited as we were, it was difficult to not let my mind wonder about whether this would be a viable pregnancy. Fear crept into my mind and I could not help but imagine the worst case scenario. Unfortunately, after another couple of weeks, the same process happened and I ended up miscarrying our second child. I still recall the night my body went through the miscarriage. My heart felt heavy and anxiety clouded my soul. Mike had already fallen asleep and I felt very much alone. 

Weeks passed after our second miscarriage, and neither of us really shared or processed our feelings. Perhaps we were afraid that it would cause us to relive the pain, or we believed that the other person had moved on. Neither of these were true, but we continued moving forward separately with our lives. 

As months passed, we felt our marriage begin to grow cold, but neither of us acknowledged it. I continued to focus my time on applying for teaching jobs, and after receiving multiple rejection letters from various school districts, I felt defeated once again. I thought God had called me back to school in order to fulfill what I believed was His calling for my life — to teach, influence, and encourage the next generation. But when that didn’t happen, I began questioning what God’s plan for me was.

I felt as though I had failed at becoming a mother, and now a teacher. For the next few months I began to feel slightly depressed, feeling at a loss for my identity. It was as though my life lacked purpose and passion, and it started to eat away at my soul. It wasn’t until a friend suggested that I branch out and apply for positions outside of education that I started to feel my soul lift. 

That following year, I landed a position working as a personal stylist for a major department store and my hours were primarily nights and weekends. It was probably the least ideal schedule, as Mike worked the typical 9 to 5 job on weekdays. His job required much traveling overseas and his business trips increased that year. 

I felt as though we were already beginning to drift apart, so resentment would creep up every time he went away. However, I knew his business trips were necessary and didn’t want to burden him with my own needs and concerns. I also began to notice that little things would irritate me, such as dirty dishes that were left in the sink. Again, I would tell myself I shouldn’t make a big deal out of the situation and move forward. 

Little things began adding up to bigger things, and what started out as annoyance led to bitterness, which led to resentment and eventually apathy. Apathy is perhaps one of the most dangerous places to be in a marriage because no change or effort is being made to resolve anything. 

I resorted back to my comfortable and familiar teenage days of rebellion by doing whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I felt a sense of entitlement. I didn’t care that what I was doing was affecting Mike, because the consequences of my actions would not only affect myself, but the one I was joined to by flesh and spirit. I justified everything by telling myself I worked hard at my job and sometimes even harder at home. On top of that both Mike and I had ministry duties that required much of our time on the weekends. All of this was leading towards a dangerous burnout that neither of us realized.

The breaking point came when I confessed to Mike that I longer had any feelings for him. My words cut deep, and I knew that I had hurt him not only with my words, but also by my own selfish actions. That moment was when we had plummeted to an all-time low. What was once love, warmth, kindness, and empathy in our marriage turned into anger, bitterness, resentment, and apathy. I yearned for our early years when we were blissfully and perhaps ignorantly “in love”. I knew God still had a hand in all of this, but at the time the future was cloudy and I felt as though I was drowning in darkness. 

We confided in our pastor, and he suggested we begin marriage counseling. We knew counseling would be helpful, but the steep price tag had us thinking twice. However, by the grace of God, we ended up paying a small portion of the suggested amount because Mike was a part-time student at Biola University, and they had a discounted rate for students. God had provided a way for us and we decided from that point on that we were going to be committed to rebuilding our marriage. 

Our counseling ended up being close to a year long. We met with our counselor weekly to share, learn, and examine our past behaviors that had caused the heart-wrenching damage to our marriage, and how we could plan for preventative measures in the future. Progress was slow but steady, and each session began to feel less painful. It’s unbelievable to even think that I became pregnant again during the process, but this time it was a healthy, fully viable pregnancy. During our last session, we even had our new baby with us! It was an emotional time for both us and our counselor as we reflected back on our growth. 

Looking back, our journey to recovery occurred exactly three years ago. Though we are still far from being perfect, we are learning to communicate more effectively, forgiving often while holding on less. Our little boy is now close to being two, and it is amazing to see how the Lord has used much of what we learned to prepare us for parenthood, which is an incredibly humbling, self-awakening experience. Had we not gone through the previous trials, I believe we would be in a very different place. 

There have been times when I questioned why God allowed all of those events to happen.  I’ve realized that every segment of our lives matters to God and is part of the beautiful love story He has written so uniquely for each of us. I’ve learned that we truly do exist to bring Him glory — even amidst the painful moments, there are opportunities for the Lord to shine and refine us so we become more like Him. All of this is possible only if we allow our hearts to become humble and obedient towards His leading, and as a result, he can help us overcome.