You know, sometimes, when I have trouble sleeping, Patrick's snore can be frustrating. Maybe at times, when I can't focus and I just need quiet. These past few bitterly cold winter days have been especially quiet, though. Everyone is staying indoors, bundled up and enjoying quiet and solitude. I can appreciate that... I like doing my own thing often enough, and enjoy a quiet day to myself.
After a while though, I get sad and worry. I worry about my kids. Of course, I worry about Patrick, too. I can't imagine my world without him in it. God did indeed give me a wonderful mate and partner. He's the Brain to my Pinky...
That snore means so many things to me.
The first thing - that it's not sleep apnea, or the cause of. Patrick was born with a cleft palate, and didn't have normal sinus cavities. As a matter of fact, his had to be mostly man made. He had so many surgeries growing up. Lots of speech therapy, and things relating to a nervous little kid that made life difficult. I guess learning to cope with all those nerves made him the cool, calm and collected dude he is today.
There's the second thing. We weren't married a year, and our son wasn't even two months old yet, and he was sent off to fight in a war. We won't get into the politics or justification at this time, because that goes pretty deep with me. We WILL get into the fact that for six months I missed the sound of him next to me, and sat glued to the news channels day and night. The television was on constantly. It didn't get shut off until he landed safely at home, in the same piece I sent him off in. The sound at night reminds me of the blessing of his continued presence in my life.
I consider other things. We've had a difficult year. He was laid off from Halliburton, bills piled up, we got behind, and we lost our house. We don't feel too terribly sorry for ourselves on that (the house and what we saw in it became more of a burden than a part of the "American Dream" for us). The time during all of this, we had a great deal of stress, and are still feeling the aftershocks that come with that kind of blow. The credit rating isn't too much a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but we had put a lot of work into the house. That's frustrating and stressful in itself. All through that, though, we grew closer to each other, and agreed that the strength God granted us would be torn to shreds if we let it pull us apart. There were to be no fights on the matter, and no laying blame. Everyone did their part, and the past is gone. You move forward and work to correct what you can, and let the lot fall where it will.
The most important thing, however, is that this is the sound I have to remind me that he could be anywhere else. I married a man who was:
1) Never going to date a woman with kids
2)Never get married
3)Never have kids of his own
and
4)Hates dogs.
People who know him are laughing. Those who don't need a brief explanation.
I have two daughters from my previous marriage. He accepted that he had to love them in order to have me in his life at all. They come with the package. You don't like my girls, I don't like you. He accepted that part of the deal. He's been a man of his word.
Obviously, we're married. Quoting him from when the judge asked "Do you take this woman...?"
"Hooah." Not "I do" or "I will" (I said "I will", because that is the correct way to answer.) He answered like a soldier.
Then 10 months later, we had a bright eyed, energetic, adorable and unique son. I say unique, because that kid has been very different from the day he was born. We'll save that story for another day.
And on the final note, we have not just one dog, but two. He tolerates the second one because of what the dog represents in his life. That was my sister's dog, and I believe in doing things for my sister because I love her. She has never asked me to do anything that would put me in a bind. I took in her dog when it looked like she wouldn't be able to keep him. (It won't be long before she comes to take him back home with her, which makes me smile, because she misses her puppy.) The first down, however, was adopted for our son that he said he'd never have, talked into it by the wife he was never going to marry, for the child's fifth birthday. Now he loves the stupid dog more than anyone else in the family.
That snore is a reminder of all the things he accepted in his life, and the huge changes that took place for him and in him.
He's next to me, breathing and real. I can't get angry at him for being there, no matter how much noise that presence might make.
So when I catch myself complaining about Patrick's snore, I remind myself of how absolutely blessed I am to have the privilege to shove my finger up his nose to get him to stop. Even when putting my finger up there can be a dangerous venture.
I love my husband.
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