The Royal wedding was screened on air, just a couple of days ago. Most little girls grow up, dreaming of a fairytale wedding. Kate was blessed to have one, but the marriage is a whole different story.
Like many young brides, I dreamed of my knight in shining armor to whisk me off my feet. I met Peter and was so in love. However, reality set in when I encountered issues with my in-laws. They were not very fond of a bride who had liberal thoughts.
Thinking that it was an initial hiccup, Peter and I endeavored and wedded each other in a very traditional church wedding. Three months later, I found out that I was pregnant with a boy. Immanuel, our first born, was a bright boy. He spoke even before he walked. He never crawled much, instead he ran around most of the time.
Soon Peter and I thought, we were up for another addition into our family. We planned to have our second born, who came in 2000. Ivan was such an adorable little bub. He smiled all the time. He woke up in the morning with a cheerful smile, and dozes off to sleep with a sweet smile too. Life was hard juggling everything together. But we figured it would only get better as the boys grew older.
Then came the year 2002, when all went up in flames. Autism walked into our lives. It brought with it shattered dreams, anger, hatred, pain and so much more.
Peter and I dealed with this intruder, in our on way, at our own time. Sometimes, we hardly talked to each other. Words could not describe our feelings. But one thing we shared in common was pain. Since pain was a feeling we both shared, patience was the antidote we both needed. But we needed the antidote from each other. And that was a little difficult to do.
Around this time, I had forgotten about my traditional wedding day, let alone the promises I had made to my husband. The marriage was not as I had thought. It was a lot of work, even more so now, with autism barging in all the time. We went through many stages, but by the grace of God we are still together walking the journey together.
However, over the years we have grown in many ways. I started to realize that it was just as difficult for Peter as it was for me. He was not mourning the things I mourned, but he didn't have to. We both lost a lot but we both lost different things. He mourned the loss of the ideal child, the times he would spending teaching his son soccer and all the guy things they were going to do together. I mourned, the loss of my freedom. I moured the lifestyle changes I had to make, the friends I lost while I was in isolation. I mourned, the instability and unpredictability of things to come. (since I was such a control freak)
Peter mourned long term stuff, while I mourned the day to day things. There was no right or wrong... there was just a wide hole of loss. Loss we could never recover, but we could refocus our goals to be happy, and that's what we try to do always.
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