Yes, I Married Him Anyway

I'm not really sure where to start. We've known each other since I was 16. Back then he went by Chris but has since decided to go by is first name, Warren. He was in my art class in high school. It was my favorite class because of him. He used to come in and lay his tall lanky body over mine and yell "I'm a human blanket!" I would giggle and blush while my insides would bubble up and feel like my heart was about to explode. He was a bad boy and I was just his friend in art class. We never hung out outside of that class yet those small moments we were together in school left a lasting impression on my soul that I carried with me for 17 years.

In 1999, he graduated and immediately joined the US Army. We promised to stay in touch and remained pen pals (along with several other ladies) for about a year. He came home from basic training half way through the year and it just so happened to be Valentine's Day weekend. I had just been broken up with and he had a date he ditched to take me to Texas Roadhouse. I remember my entire outfit I wore that day. My Calvins, this soft pink boho top, and these weird leather mules with embroidery on them, I though were the coolest thing since sliced bread. We had dinner but I can't remember the details. He remembers what he ate, and said we went back to my mom's house afterwards and sat in my room and just talked. I can't recall the details of the rest of that day but he also told me he remembers being so nervous and wanting to kiss me but he just couldn't do it.

In 2004 when he was deployed to Iraq. As a Staff Sargent and Infantry Squad Leader, his QRF joined the Marines for Operation Phantom Fury in Falluja, Iraq. The battle there lasted about a month till they moved on to Mosul. I will spare the gory details but what takes place in these war zones is not anything to be taken lightly. He experienced it ALL. In 2005 he went down due to a previous heart condition and was medivacked to an Army hospital in Germany. There, he was given a pacemaker and the Army determined he was officially done so they shipped him home. He recovered at Walter Reed Hospital in Bethesda, MD for about 3 years till he was finally medically discharged. The army gave him a 70 percent retirement package, a bronze star, and a pat on the back.

His first marriage didn't work out but resulted in his beautiful daughter. After the divorce he reconnected with an old friend from his middle school days and ended up marrying her. Another 6 years went by and the 2nd marriage fell apart, yet again. He was self medicating with opiates, weed, and various other concoctions. He had a stroke in 2012 and was told he would never walk again, let alone talk or write. At the very least he definitely wouldn't regain use of his left side. Less than 2 weeks later, he was walking and talking. Yet he still suffered from residual brain damage. His PTSD and the traumatic brain injuries he sustained in Iraq were also rearing their ugly heads. He was spinning out of control an felt he had no one to turn to. He decided he was done with this life. Several suicide attempts later, his 2nd wife had had enough and kicked him out. He stayed with family till his bad habits forced his family to ask him to leave. Left to his own devices and after several weeks of homelessness, he was finally able to get help from the VA.

He was checked into the trauma recovery unit at the Baltimore VA. While there he was able to ween himself off of the pills and was taught coping mechanisms for the PTSD.

You're probably wondering where I come in to play in this story, and here it is. Thanks to social media, we were able to keep tabs on each other over the years. We would "like" each other's pictures and anyone I met in the military I always would mention my friend Chris from art class. He was my buddy. Regardless of how long it had been, thoughts of him made me feel good. His kind, gentle soul and clear blue eyes. His goofiness and isms. We actually ran into each other once out of the 17 years. We were at a local dive bar in the town we grew up in. My brother's band was playing. He told me later that he used to go see my brother play in hopes of running into me. I saw him walk in and immediately ran to him—despite the fact that I was there with my husband—we hugged and when we pulled away he kept his hands on my waist and yelled over the music something to the effect of "Mary (explitive) Bell! You got HOT!" Of course I giggled and blushed just like in art class and I can't tell you what I said to him but I just remember being so happy to see him. But in a moment, he was gone again. I looked around to find him and he had vanished. Later I came to find out that he had been embarrassed to see me because of his ongoing internal battles. So he snuck out and left.

We continued to follow each others' lives on the internet until one day he posted a picture of him in a hospital gown with wires all over his chest and he just looked... bad. Without hesitation, I commented on his post asking what had happened and if he was okay. I was on my way to work and forgot to check back till later and I remember being in my car when I saw his reply. He told me he this it what happens when a human blanket has no one to keep warm. I was listening to the song "Stars" by Alissia Cara.

The lyrics go as follows:

Knock on my door boy, come home.

You stay in my head, lay in my arms why won't you.

It's been way too long.

What you waiting on?

And I just started sobbing. It was like something in me opened up feelings I didn't even know were there. Relief in knowing he remembered me, and the sadness of seeing him in such disarray had my guts churning. I went to work that day and all I did was talk about him to anyone who would listen. I decided I had to visit him. So after work a few days later I went to the VA. Walking off the elevator and seeing him in the lobby is something I will remember forever. His hands in his pockets, it was like we just drifted towards each other. His blue eyes, his tall lanky body dressed in a blue flannel, jeans and a beanie. I reached up to hug him and I almost started crying.

After our hellos, he escorted me to the 6th floor of the VA where he had a room set up with a blanket, coloring books, and VA snacks like Gatorade and crackers. He had wanted to take me on a picnic but since his freedoms were slightly restricted this was the best he could do. I was so nervous and excited. I stayed there for hours. We talked about everything. He opened up about his failed marriages and at that point I had also just closed out my first marriage's divorce so we commiserated on that for a while. He told me he probably wouldn't get married again and I remember feeling disappointed.

Not that I had any expectations with him after all, I was in a new relationship with a guy who was taking me all over the world with his work. Who would walk away from the jet setting life? Speaking of that guy, we had plans that night and he was a good 2 hours away from the VA so with much reluctance I told him I had to go. Our picnic was over.

He escorted me back to the lobby and while in the elevator I just remember staring at him. At the creases around his eyes that age, and most certainly the dessert sun had caused. His freckles, his eyebrows, his beard. I was looking for the boy from my art class. But that boy wasn't there anymore. He was harder and scarred. But still he had this lightness to him, despite all he had endured. I got in my car and drove to my boyfriend's house, crying for most of the ride. I didn't want to leave Warren. Everything in my body was telling me he was where I needed to be.

That night the universe aligned with the perfect excuse to leave my boyfriend. After about a year and a half, he and I just weren't on the same page. Yet I felt stuck and obligated. A few months prior we had gotten into an argument and he shoved me onto the bed and continued to push me several times. We were both intoxicated so it wasn't a pretty situation. Just to be clear—he never actually hit me, but I'm just not a fan of men who think it's okay to put their hands on a woman. Yet, I couldn't end the relationship. Flash forward to the night after I left the VA. We were out for a friend's birthday and I was just so upset about my friend I couldn't let it go. I wanted to talk to my boyfriend about him, and what I had just seen. He refused. Hindsight tells me there was most likely some jealousy going on but in the moment I couldn't see that.

I just felt so awful for my friend and I wanted to be there for him no matter what. My boyfriend and I ended up getting into a huge argument that night and he put his hands on me for the second and last time. I left his house and 3 in the morning to go back to my best friend's house who I was living with while I got back on my feet after my divorce. After days of back and forth I finally decided that the relationship needed to be done. It was a horrible end to the most volatile relationship I've ever been in. And I was so happy.

I continued to visit Warren at the VA over the next several weeks and our casual friendship erupted into a full fledged head over heals love affair. We decided this was it. After everything we had been though, he and I were meant to be. He graduated from the recovery program and we immediately moved into my brother's house till we were able to find a place of our own. We rented a house 10 min from our high school so that his daughter could stay with us and still remain within her school system. Not even 3 weeks into living together, I got pregnant. This came as a surprise as both of us were convinced we had reproductive issues. My pregnancy was hard, not bad enough to be hospitalized but I was constantly nauseous, exhausted from working on my feet, and stressed beyond belief because we were also broke.

He had finally received his 100 percent retirement from the VA but it was still only a fraction of what any normal person needs to live off of. He couldn't work due to his PTSD. The VA dubbed him "unemployable." So any expenses beyond what his small retirement pay could cover was on me. I did met best to promote my failing hair business but with being so sick, there was only so much I could work.

More stresses came in the form of arguments over finances, family members not respecting his boundaries, and the dynamic of a household with a pre-teen is always tricky to navigate. He became overwhelmed and I stayed angry at life. We just couldn't catch a break. We knew we were brought back together for a reason but life just seemed to be fighting us at every turn. A couple months before our baby girl was born, I came home to him in a full blown panic after he watched a war movie on TV. He wanted to die. He called the VA crisis line and the girl told him to go to the VA ER. So off we went.

While there we were treated as if he was a burden and a rung above a criminal. He was in complete distress and the staff was not helpful. In fact one person ended up being removed from our room because she kept making comments about him being "crazy." Yes. This folks, is how our vets are treated. They gave him a 4 day prescription for Adavan and told them someone would follow up with him in a day or two to schedule an appt to get him help. Four days later, with still no phone call from the VA, he went back into distress and I had to take him back to the ER. This time we decided to go to a private sector hospital since our experience at the VA was such a nightmare. Thankfully the staff at Anne Arundle Medical Center possessed the empathy that the staff at the Baltimore VA so majorly lacked. The difference was night and day.

They kept him overnight so I went back home. My mom came over to stay with me for the night and I sobbed all night long. I wanted so badly to just fix him. I knew I was a strong woman and I knew I had resources to help him, but I just felt all of my efforts weren't working. The next day was supposed to be my maternity shoot which I had bartered for with a friend who was a photographer. I was so sad to have to cancel it but there was just no way we would get ourselves together after the week we had. I called the hospital as soon as I woke up and they told me he was getting released so I left to pick him up. The doctor told me she gave him some contacts for Veteran's help centers in the area and we got him into a group therapy program for PTSD in Annapolis. He attended the meetings once a week and his primary care doctor prescribed him Prozac. He was back in recovery. Again.

March 17, 2017 we welcomed our beautiful baby girl. Ophelia Monroe Finch. Six pounds and two ounces of pure joy. I think we both cried for a week straight every time we looked at her. She was this perfect little being. Truly made with love.

Months passed and one day he came home from his veterans group with news. "Someone wants to give us a house," he told me as he walked in the kitchen. I laughed in disbelief. But he told me it was true. He had met this man, Gil, a fellow combat vet who served in Vietnam who had been looking for a veteran to donate his home to. For some reason Gil took a liking to Warren and he approached him with an offer to assume the mortgage on his home. I told him to get the information so we could go visit the house. A couple weeks later we finally arranged to meet and take a tour of the house. It was an hour and a half away but the drive was a pretty one. Southern Maryland really is a beautiful place.

We quickly fell in love with the area and with the house. It was old, built in 1950, but had so much potential. I was still waiting for someone to pop out of the bushes to tell me this was all a big joke. But alas, it was real. Gil wanted us to have his house. And the mortgage would be half of what we were spending on rent. This was it. Our break. That summer we decided to go to the courthouse and get married. It was a perfect day filled with love and the happiest tears. Maybe a story for another time.

About four months after we first visited the new house we finally moved in. Gil had planned to move to Chicago with family before he was to retire to Puerto Rico. He had a home built there a long with a veteran's retreat. It was his end game. Unfortunately, the week we moved was the same week the hurricane hit PR. Gil's property was completely destroyed. He called me a few days before the move to tell me the news. I was at a total loss. How are we supposed to move into this man's house when his new home isn't even there anymore? Yet he insisted we move forward with the mortgage assumption. As a gesture in appreciation, we had agreed to take over the care of his 10 year old Rhodesian Ridgeback who was his only comfort while his wife was dying. Maddie, or Mad Dog, as Gill called her, was a sweetheart. However, she came with her own set of issues. And while we had hoped it would work out, she was creating even more stress for us. We determined it would be best to have her stay with one of Gil's nephews. 3 days later, Maddie passed away in her sleep.

The day Mad Dog was picked up, Warren started feeling sick. The next day he was couch ridden. Atrial flutter, because of his heart condition. A trip to the doctor determined that he would need to be cardio verted but because of his prior stroke, he needed to be on a blood thinner for three weeks before they could do the procedure. Three weeks turned into six weeks because of not being able to get in with the doctor immediately. So for six weeks I essentially became a single parent. Warren did what he could to help but he really only had 10-15 minutes on his feet before he had to lay back down. It was true survival mode.

I'd like to take a few steps back just to insert this part of the story, and the inspiration behind the title of it. When we decided to move, I also decided I didn't want to drive an hour to my existing job and a friend mentioned to me a place that might be hiring. I reached out to the owner and for several weeks I planned and worked with her to move my business to our new town. My first day on the job I had a lot going on. Warren was invited to Malibu for a surf therapy event and I was working on arranging flights so there were several calls I needed to make. Mind you, I'm a hairstylist, and a good one. I went to this new salon in hopes of finally gaining peace and normalcy after the craziest year of my life. It was supposed to be my answer.

Throughout my first day, I had no new clients because the salon hadn't announced that I was there yet. So I had nothing but time to think and luckily scored amazingly affordable flights to LAX. I poked around the salon like an idiot, not getting paid for a second of my time there. I was scolded for having my phone on the floor. I wasn't offered a break to get lunch. And felt my intelligence was being insulted several times before the day was over. I had offered to work that weekend but since the trip to Malibu had come up, I asked if it was okay not to work. The owner didn't seem happy but agreed to it anyway. As I was leaving for the night, I was in the break room with the owner and she asked me what the deal with my husband was. I told her about some of his struggles and disabilities. As I was telling her, she looked at me and said.. "and you knew this about him, and you married him anyway? AND had a baby with him?!" I was dumbfounded. I can't even remember my exact words but I think I said something to the effect of, "Yeah well we have a long story..." but her words hurt.

We went to Malibu and upon our return home I decided I'd rather eat Ramen noodles every day than to step foot in that salon ever again. I told the owner I was sorry but felt the salon was not the best fit and would be pursuing other options which would allow me to be flexible for the needs of my family. I just knew I couldn't work with someone who displayed such a lack in empathy. It was as if she said to me that he doesn't deserve to be loved.

Now, back to the rest of the story. The stress of not having one hundred percent of him was draining me. Our baby girl is very needy and anxious and her separation anxiety peaked at about week 2 of his bedrest. My mom helped out when she could but we really had no one to turn to to dig us out of this mess we were in. I was driving 2 hours round trip to work turning my ten hour days into twelve. He was getting worse by the day. Our finances were a total mess. We had a couple of the biggest blow out fights to date in those 6 weeks. And while there were small things that were the catalysts, the root of the arguments were just pure frustration. Frustration from having no money, me not being able to work a full schedule, him not being able to stand up let alone help me take care of our baby. We even canceled Christmas. New Year's Eve was just another day in our hell.

At about week 5, the coldest temperatures in history hit our state. 16 degrees and snow was the forecast. And then, our heat broke. Without going into the ins and outs, let me just say that the oil companies really don't care if you're warm or not. As long as they get their money that's all they care about. We were without heat for 9 days and without hot water for 11. Between his condition, the baby, and our financial hardship, we had no option but to ride it out. We hunkered down in the living room with space heaters and that was our life for a week and a half. Once the heat was fixed and I felt like I could finally get back to some kind of routine, our washer broke. I guess that's just life but I truly feel like this whole experience was what we needed to go through in order to grow not only as a unit but as individuals. We were forced to stay in the same room for days and days staring at the same four walls. How does one not go crazy in that situation?

The week had finally come for the cardio version. It went by in a flash and he was back on his feet. We were even given a washer from a family friend who was getting rid of theirs!

While life doesn't seem to be letting up on us anytime soon, we still remain optimistic that we were brought back together for a greater reason. Yes we have our challenges, but what grounds us and keeps us going is our love and respect for each other. We say it all the time that we wouldn't want to go through any of this with anyone else. He is my best friend, my buddy, my rock. I still catch glimpses of the boy from my art class and it gives me butterflies. I married my Chris Finch. And he loves me. All of me, even the ugly parts. And I love him, I always have. So yes, I married him anyway.

Post Card from basic training, I kept this on my bulletin board in my bedroom and we found it when we moved.

"Ps- I'm a human blanket"