Don't Apologize for the Rain

When I got married at twenty-one, I knew it would be a few years before my husband and I were ready to have kids. We were both young and naive, had a few more years of college ahead of us and no money. But a family was definitely something both of us saw in our future.

Five years down the road, degrees in hand and entry level positions in companies where we could eventually see as having a future, we both admitted we still weren't ready to actively start trying to have children. Instead, we made the conscious decision to continue with our lives, but forgo using birth control. What would happen would happen and we'd take it as it came - and it came faster than we'd expected.

Within a month of being off the pill, I was pregnant. We were both happy (and scared), and quickly set out to readying our lives to accommodate the little addition. Families were told, furniture was bought, and we thought we were prepared.

Spoiler alert, we weren't. My pregnancy was traumatic, I ended up with preeclampsia and Bells' Palsy, resulting in extremely high blood pressure and forcing me to rush to the hospital three weeks ahead of schedule. Fortunately, my little girl was healthy, and although the birth was tough, we considered ourselves blessed.

Years went by and we had three more little rugrats, all of which had uneventful pregnancies and births, and again, we considered ourselves lucky. But I didn't always feel lucky.

Within the eight year span of having my four children, I noticed something about my situation. While I had upended my body and my life for my little ones, my husband's life had changed very little. My friends fluctuated with my children, playdates for them equated to a mommy friend for me, but most of the friends I'd had before kids had faded into the background. Our schedules no longer lined up and chances to meet became fewer and fewer until finally, my pre-children friends just became people I saw on Facebook.

That's when I realized I had lost ME. I was no longer a woman with a name, I was Mommy. What I wanted became secondary to my kids - as it should be. And while my husband tried to share in some of the responsibilities, he also traveled a lot for work, so most of it fell on my shoulders. I found myself drowning. My dream of being a parent was becoming a nightmare I couldn't wake up from. I was overwhelmed and lost.

It wasn't until I met my best friend in the church nursery, of course, that I started to see glimpses of the girl I was before I became Mommy. She was a breath of fresh air, sharing in my frustrations, understanding my thoughts and feelings. She saw ME.

We hung out a lot and one day, after reading a particular book series, I'd mentioned to my BFF that I would love to visit the rainy little town in the Pacific Northwest where the story had taken place. I honestly didn't think anything would come of it, it was only a dream, but boy was I wrong.

My best friend made it a priority to make my dream become a reality. She was relentless, pushing me out of my comfort zone, nagging me to ask my in-laws for help with schedules, insisting I talk to my husband about taking time off work to watch the kids so I could go out of town. She'd planned it all out and was behind every detail.

The week finally came and we headed up to the Olympic National Park. It was one of the best vacations I'd ever had. Four glorious days of just me, my bestie, the forest, and the rain.

It's been over a decade since that first trip and I can still see it all, recall the feelings, and picture it in my mind's eye. The experience was like stepping into my own imagination. Forest and beaches were just as the author had described in her book and exactly what I'd envisioned.

Not only that, but the parts of me that I'd forgotten, that had become dormant or been shoved aside to make way for Mommy, came flooding back like waves on the shore. Reaching out to touch me, greedily washing over me, and beckoning me to come back to who I used to be.

Don't get me wrong, I love my kids and I wouldn't trade them for the world, but one day, they will be gone and I'm grateful that I was reminded of who would be left in my soon to be empty house. That's why, after that first time, I began rearranging my life to allow some time for ME, to get to know who I am again, so that I can appreciate all I have to go back to when my vacations are over.

So, for the last ten years, my best friend and I have continued to take our girls' trips. We make it a priority to get back to the Pacific Northwest, so we can recharge and unwind. To get back to the basics. To get back to us.