Estimated reading time: 6 minute(s)
When we married, I discovered that Jen was a wonderful mason. Over the years, she had learned to build some pretty terrific, fortified walls to protect her heart from invasion. I had not seen this outside the intimacy of marriage – or I was just a clueless young guy. 🙂 But once we were inside, the insurmountable walls appeared.
My wife is an amazingly gentle spirit. She is so kind and thoughtful. She is encouraging, and the kind of person you always want to be around. That’s why I wanted to spend my life with her! I love to be with her. I have noticed that my son, Ian, is similarly a gentle spirit. This will be a wonderful gift he can give people, that God will use to heal and restore and show his compassion and mercy through. Just like his mom.
However, with such a gentleness, comes very, very easy pain. Both Jen and Ian are quite sensitive to the words and opinions of others. Harsh words or tones – even not directed specifically at them – can crush their hearts quickly. So, Jen has learned over the years the fine art of masonry. She can build (and has many times) walls that will keep out any painful words or connections with people. She has been hurt – and not just because she’s a gentle spirit, she has been through her share of very rough times – and she has built walls.
Over our eight years of marriage, we have worked through some of those walls, but they have certainly been a barrier to intimacy at times. Intimacy has no walls, and that is the thrill of it. (OK guys, knock it off. I’m not just talking about sex!) The deep sharing of everything you are with another person. Proverbs says that our hearts are the “wellspring of life”. They are who we are. And when we share that with another person, on every level, that is intimacy, and a closeness that God intended us to experience in a marriage relationship. Complete commitment to the other person allows for complete freedom in intimacy.
While Jen is gentle, and compassionate, and thus easily hurt… I appear to have been made the (almost) complete opposite.
I am confident, unafraid to be different, and naively optimistic – not concerned with the opinions of others. This can obviously be a positive, a strength. I choose a direction, and I go for it. I am not hindered by the negative opinions of others, nor am I necessarily caught up in any positive praise from others. I am me, and that’s pretty much it.
The obvious negative of this is my sensitivity to the outside world – and to you, my friends and neighbors – can be somewhat absent at times. 🙂 Ha ha. 🙂 Being married to a person like Jen has helped to increase my awareness of the impact my words and decisions have on other folks. I actually do think of other people a bit more now.
But for the most part, the benefit of this has been, I haven’t built any walls. I am pretty much completely accessible to anyone who cares to enter my world.
Until late 2004.
In October and November 2004, we lost a baby. Jen carried the baby for about 14 weeks before we discovered that it had stopped growing (they think) around 12 weeks. The entire pregnancy was quite precarious. There were signs of trouble almost right from the start. But we were so excited about another baby – I was so excited about another baby – that I kept up hope that all would work out. We thought we lost the baby at 11 weeks, but got to see it happily bouncing around in the womb via an ultrasound. That was joyous. But a short two or three weeks later, we saw no life. No movement. And my heart was crushed.
But Jen’s was not. She said multiple times how her wall-building ability kept her removed from that hurt in many ways. Now, she hurt, don’t get me wrong. But I was more affected by all that transpired, I would say. As would Jen.
Now, just two weeks from the due date of our next baby – the first since losing the baby a year and a half ago – I have seen that I have built walls. I have learned the skilled craft of masonry from my wife.
This morning, I think for the first time, I felt the excitement finally surface in me about the new baby. I can honestly say that I have not until then. I have intellectually thought, “It will be nice to have a new baby.” I have not really let my heart experience the real excitement of holding my baby, bringing him/her home, playing together with the rest of the family – all of the joy of a new life in a home. I realized today that I have protected myself from the hurt I felt last time by building walls around my heart.
But I have missed the joy!! I have not truly been excited about this baby. I have chalked it up so far to it being our fourth baby. We’re veterans. We’re experienced. It’s not exciting anymore… That’s for first-timers. In fact, we have a friend who just had her first baby, and I think we have had just such a conversation or two, about “getting excited”. My response to her has been, no… we’re just looking forward to Jen not being pregnant. 🙂 (That’s not completely try, but sadly, more than I’d like it to be.)
I obviously can’t speak for Jen on this, but I imagine she has the same walls. She already knows how to build them.
It’s understandable. I had a large amount of fear in my heart the first time we went to listen for the baby’s heart beat. And the next. And the next. I have not taken any visit for granted, until lately, I suppose. I have grown increasingly confident that we will meet this baby, since it won’t STOP moving inside Jen. 🙂 (It really is quite an active baby!) But along the way, I have not let my heart get too excited. I hope today’s excitement is not premature.
But in the end, I think that’s my lesson for today. Excitement is never premature. The pain of loss is worth the excitement, the hope of life. There is joy and fulfillment in hope. Hope is the promise of what lies ahead. And beyond the hope of future joy, there is the present reality of a life growing (and kicking) inside of Jen. I have had moments of joy, but overall, I think I have missed the excitement of this baby, because I was afraid to lose it.
Don’t be afraid to lose it. Live and love what you’ve got. Hope for more. Let’s bring down the walls, and unabashedly let the joy – and pain – of life fill our hearts.
I think we’ll be better for it.