Florida Sun

I had one of the best weekends of my lifetime in Florida. I was with my Mom and sisters and my darling nieces. It was a very relaxing time --time spent at the beach and pool. Mom loved the beach. We ate and talked and we ate (Mom liked feeding us).

Courtney and Brittany, my nieces, were quite young and though I had been away from home all of their life, they knew me. My sister did a wonderful job talking about me often, showing them pictures, etc. So I was not a stranger to them and for that, I was very grateful. Brittany was about a year old and for whatever reason it was, she instantly became my buddy. That baby girl was glued to me the entire weekend and as you know, that thrilled me.

Sam made me a maternity top with a matching hair bow. It ended up too small to be a maternity top but since I was barely showing; I was able to proudly wear it that weekend.

One afternoon while at the beach my sisters and I took our floats and headed out for the ocean. As we floated along in the water, like giddy little teenaged girls, my sisters grilled me about Jerry. They wanted to know what he looked like, what he was like, etc. They were anxious to meet this man that was soon to be part of our family too.

Getting lost in our conversation, laughter and fun, my sisters and I were out on the water for quite some time. We headed back to shore where Mom was keeping the little ones. We ate a huge lunch, of course, and soon headed back to Mom's condo because you know, we needed to get ready for dinner. Like I said, Mom liked to feed us.

When we got home, we all noticed how red I was. My face and chest was bright red from sunburn. It did not seem to hurt so I was not very concerned. That evening my sisters and I decided to go to the movies while Mom and Bob, my step-Dad, stayed home with the girls.

On the way to the movies, I was not feeling well but since I was still struggling with some pregnancy illness, I did not think much of it. As soon as we got to our seats at the theater, I knew this was not a pregnancy related illness and I left immediately. I went back to the car with the intention of just lying down for a few minutes and going back inside. After a short while when I did not return, my sister came out to check on me. I told her I just needed to rest and as soon as I was feeling better I would be back in. She asked me if I wanted to go home but I really did not want to ruin our evening out and since we all already paid for our tickets (and buckets of popcorn), I did not want to leave.

I was so nauseous but not like my "morning sickness" nausea. I felt like I was on fire and yet, I had the chills. My head felt like it was going to explode from the worst headache I ever had experienced. I just was a miserable mess. My sunburned skin stung and throbbed. I remember lying in the back of the car just groaning and being very miserable. Thankfully, I finally fell asleep.  My sister came to check on me again and wanted to take me home but I kept insisting I would be okay and that I would be back in shortly.  It was not long before the movie was over and my sisters came back.

Later we summized that I probably had a case of sun poisoning and then we began to think how foolish it was for us to be out in the hot tropic sun for so long.  The next day we went down to the pool and this time I stayed in the shade as much as possible and I avoided going into the water.

Though this was one of the best weekends of my lifetime, in the back or our minds we knew we soon would have to face what we all had been fearing . .  .what was going on with Mom.  That was part of the reason we were all here; Val was going to take Mom to the doctor.  I had to be back to Ft. Riley by Tuesday so my flight back was on Monday.  It was hard for me to leave especially since my sisters got to stay a few days longer.  When we were saying our good-byes Val assured me she would call me and let me know what the doctor said.

And thus the month of May 1988 came to an end.

Surprise!!!!!!!!!!!!!

With Jerry making plans to come to Kansas, several weeks after she had come to see me, I was set to go to Florida to surprise my Mom.

My youngest sister arrived in Florida first and then my older sister came with her two children and surprised Mom. Remember, Mom was having some health issues one of which she was having a difficult time finding words.

It was a Friday when I arrived in Florida. My sisters and step-Dad met me at the airport. It was very emotional because since the news of my pregnancy, this was the first time I saw my younger sister. Though I had spoken to my older sister, Val, on the phone, I had not yet spoken to my youngest sister, Sam. It was a little bit uncomfortable facing her. I was still struggling with such a sense of shame and more than anything, I did not want my family to be disappointed in me. You know, with so many emotions and things going on, that first initial eye contact was going to be tough for me. My step-Dad met me at the gate and my sisters were waiting by the car for me (it was a very small airport). When I saw Sam, she just embraced me --with the same love and forgiveness I imagine the Prodigal's Father embraced his son with. There was not a speck of condemnation or disappointment in her eyes. She hugged me, we had tears and with no need for words, our hearts spoke. It was like that because my sisters also knew the grace and forgiveness bestowed on them by a loving and merciful God. My sisters and I were kindred by birth and kindred by re-birth.

But eventually, someone had to talk and so to break the silence as I wiped tears from my eyes I said, "So, did you hear I'm pregnant?"

Mom was working that day. She was a receptionist at a public health facility where her bilingual skills (fluent in Spanish as my Mother was from Puerto Rico) were an indispensable tool as they served a very large Hispanic population. Our plan was for all of us to just walk into Mom's work and surprise her.

Mom was not expecting anyone to visit her at work that day so first Sam and Val walked in with the girls, my two nieces, and Mom was ecstatic! She thought they just came by to say hi to her and she was thrilled . . . and then . . from behind my sisters, I stepped out. Mom screamed out loud and ran to me. She grabbed me and held me and was crying and screaming, "I can't believe it!  How did you get away from the Army?" There was quite a bit of commotion so naturally, the office workers all came out front to see what was going on . . in addition, the waiting area was full too.

With all of us girls standing there, my Mom was just hysterical and overtaken with emotion so as her co-workers came out she was trying to explain this all to them and as she was already struggling to find and use words, Mom could not get much out. So standing there, she points to each of us and excitedly says in a sort of disconnected Morse Code fashion, "Her Michigan. Married. Two children. Her college. Illinois. Here on break."

And then Mom points to me and with a group of doctors and office staff gathered and a full waiting area, Mom points to me and says, "Her in Army not married and pregnant by black man."

*cricket cricket*

Okay so --that was awkward. So my sisters and me just smile and look at everyone and politely say, "Its' nice to meet you." We left and told Mom we would see her at home that evening. She literally was floating on cloud nine.

When my sisters and I went out to the parking lot, we were laughing so hard. Dear sweet Mom. She was so excited she had no words -

I am sure Mom told her co-workers about her daughters and in her excitement, she was just trying to introduce us and explain to them who we were, "This is Val my oldest daughter, the one that is married with two children and lives in Michigan. This is my youngest daughter, Sam, that is a college student at Eastern Illinois. This is Melissa, the one that is in the Army stationed at Ft. Riley and she just found out she's expecting."

But you know . . it did not come out quite like that!

Visits

Mom and my sister Val decided they needed to come see me.  Mom needed to be with her daughter and I desperately needed to be with my Mom.  They decided to come spend a weekend with me in Kansas.

I was dreading their visit only because I was embarrassed for them to see where I lived.  My apartment was a dump and though I had cleaned and scrubbed and added as many new things as I could, it was just a really clean dump with some new things about.  But I had to get over that because I really wanted to see Mom and Val.

I drove to the Kansas City airport, about an hour from Ft. Riley, and picked up Mom and Val.  We were all glad to see one another.  We spent the weekend at my apartment and it was just the visit I needed.  Driving them back to Kansas City for their return flight, we left early and spent the day in KC.  We did some shopping, I tried on maternity clothes, and we ate a nice lunch as some country restaurant.  Mom and I talked a lot about the baby and Jerry.  Mom wasn't convinced Jerry was going to "do the right thing" but she supported me 100%.  Mom was loving and kind and understanding.  Her love was so unconditional.

Dad, Mom and Val were there for me --knowing what a difficult time I was having, they hopped on a plane and came to me.  I will never forget that--I will never forget those visits.

Decisions

Jerry's phone call lifted a huge burden from my heart. Ever since the night I went down on my knees and prayerfully opened my heart, I knew I was not alone and things were going to be okay. I had such a sense of peace about me. Even so, though I knew my heavenly Father was not going to abandon me, I was still uncertain what Newsome was going to do.

After his call I felt so much better and even more so, I realized I was not alone. I needed all of his reassuring words. And now I officially felt pregnant. Well you know, I felt pregnant before but now I had some security and this was our news.

From the moment of conception, a woman's life is forever changed. A pregnancy can only end in miscarriage, abortion, birth to adoption or birth to raising a child. There is no "undoing" a pregnancy. In any scenrerio, a woman's life is changed --forever. I had that keen sense of my life being at a pivotal moment. You see, this was not a planned or expected pregnancy so it is not as if we waited in eager anticipation for that day, that news or that pink strip on a urine test. I did not have time to get used to the idea before the idea was --well, a conceived child. After talking to Newsome I went from being a pregnant woman to being and expectant Mom. It was as if the thought of the possibility of raising a child alone was so overwhelming that I did not allow myself to think of myself as Mother. Does that make sense? It makes sense to me in my heart and yet it is confusing in my head. I needed to put the wheels in motion but we were kind of at a standstill until we knew which direction to drive. Now that I knew which direction to turn to, I was ready to go.

In some of my letters to Newsome I mentioned the possibility of me getting out of the Army because a woman can request a discharge if she is pregnant. Like the maternity battle dress uniforms, being a soldier and being a mother did not seem to coincide for me. I knew staying in the Army meant staying at Ft. Riley and I knew staying at Ft. Riley meant going through a pregnancy alone. I did not want that. Even if Jerry and I married right away, it would be months before we could actually be together --these things took time. Once I would finally come down on orders for joint domicile, I would probably be too far into the pregnancy to move. So anyway, these were the considerations that seemed to plague me.

Get married now? Get married later?

Get out of the Army now? Get out of the Army later?

Get out of the Army later? Reenlist for another term?

Move to Germany with Jerry? Stay at Ft. Riley?

Move to Michigan to be with my sisters? Move to Chicago back home? Move to Florida near Mom?

With all that was going on in my life, could I possibly plan a wedding? Could Newsome even be home for that?

There were so many decisions yet to be made.

The Call

I was so anxious to talk to Jerry there was no way I was going to miss that first call. So with my stomach in a ball of knots, I waited.

And answered the phone.

There weren't any initial pleasantries like how's Ft. Riley, how's the weather, etc.  Jerry just jumped right in.  Overseas calls were expensive and the connection was somewhat poor --there was no time for small talk.  Jerry's tone was something between a scolding and lecture --but not really.  I think he just had things to say and needed to get them stated.  I'll never forget the conversation started with, "Look here" and then it went something like this . . . .

I don't care what no one else says, this is our baby!  I read all of your letters and you asking me what I want to do and I don't know why you even had to ask.  What is there for us to do?  I told you, I love you.  I told you, I intend to spend the rest of my life with you.  You want babies?  We will have babies!  You want one or two or ten?  We will have babies.  This is us.  This is our life.  I love you --you can't scare me away.  Your folks can't scare me away.  I understand you're scared.  I understand you feel alone but I'm there,  I'm there with you.  I may not be able to call you or even see you but I'm there.  I'm right with you. You are not going to go through this alone.  We are going to have a baby.  Don't be scared.  The ball is in your court.  You want to stay in the Army?  Stay.  You want to get out?  Get out.  I fully support whatever it is you want to do and you listen here, that baby is mine and I intend to be a Daddy.  I'm a little hurt you even had to ask but you know, I understand you are all alone and could not talk to me.   . . so how's Ft. Riley?  You know, I'm kind of glad you're pregnant because now I know guys aren't going to be hitting on you. . . . so listen, I have to work some things out here but I'm coming to Kansas.  I'm trying to come in a week or two but we have a field exercise and I need to talk to my First Sergeant but you hold on.  I'm coming, okay?  I'm coming and you'll see, its all going to be okay.  I love you, baby girl.  I love you and our baby and I'm coming to you --just hold on.

Besides sobbing through the entire conversation, I think I only uttered a few words here and there.  And then . . .

Hey, I gotta go.  This is my buddy's phone and I know he's not gonna let me pay him for this call so . . you take care of yourself and our baby.  Keep writing me.  I read your letters every night before I go to bed.  I love you.  You take care.  Bye.

Love, Jerry

It was weeks before I heard anything from Newsome but finally one day --a letter arrived.  I was afraid to open it and I did notice it wasn't as thick as I would have liked.  I mean come on, I was writing him every single day, numerous times a day and here one measly little very thin letter arrives for me.

And the letter said --

I got all of your letters and read every single one of them.  We need to talk about this.  I don't want to do this through letters or the mail.  I have arranged to use my buddy's phone so I can call you and I will just pay him for the call.  Here are two dates and times I plan to call you, the times are in your local time.  If I don't reach you the first time I will try the second time.    I will talk to you soon.  Love, Jerry

And so now all I could do was wait for that call.  I was a little annoyed he didn't say too much but I hung onto "Love, Jerry"

LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE --it rang over and over and over in my head. . . Love, Jerry.

Apartment

As soon as I got my apartment keys I went back to the barracks.  I packed up as much as I could take in one trip and headed off to my new apartment.

You have to understand, I grew up in small apartments in less than desirable neighborhoods so in a way, my childhood prepared me for this apartment living.  There was no real shock value.  As best I can remember, the apartment had 6 individual units.  When you first walked in you could go down like a half flight of stairs and there were two garden apartments.  You could go up one sort of half flight of steps and those were the first floor apartments and then there were two more units on a second floor. My apartment was on the first floor (which was really not at ground level), the first to the left.

As soon as I walked into the building I smelled fried foods, paint and just kind of --smells I can't even describe.  I walked into my apartment and I tried to remain optimistic; I guess I can hang a picture there, put a table cloth on that table there, put up new fresh curtains, a throw rug there . . . the place wasn't too bad but it wasn't too good either.  I decided I was not going to spend the night there that night, I'd head back to the barracks.  So I began to make a list of things I needed to buy before I could fully move back in ----

Lysol
Mattress cover
Another mattress cover
Sheets
Cleaning bucket
Cleaning supplies
Broom
Mop
Couch slip cover
Contact paper for the kitchen cabinets
LOTS of contact paper
Rubber gloves
Shower curtain
Rugs for bathroom
Rugs for floors

You get the idea . . . .

What Not To Wear

I was becoming a bit determined in my pregnancy to separate myself from two things as much as possible; the Army and being single.  Very odd determinations considering I was single and in the Army.  I never said it made sense.

I could not reconcile in my mind maternity BDU's.  The name itself is an oxymoron.  BDU = Battle Dress Uniform.  How can you preface that with "maternity".  Does that make sense?  Maternity  Battle Dress Uniform.  Dressed for Battle, Maternity style.  Battle?  Uh no!  Let's face it, camouflage isn't exactly flattering on an un-pregnant body and camouflage, unlike its name suggests, DOES NOT make you look smaller.  In addition to that, with BDU's you had to wear combat boots and there again I ask you, what about the word "combat" suggest you're about to become a loving tender Mommy?  I wasn't about to wear maternity camouflage BDU's nor was I going to wear combat boots.

The challenge here was, that was the required uniform and the Army is kind of you know, particular about rules and regulations.  Somehow I had to get an exception.

I did not have to pay for my uniform.  With a signed note from my doctor stating my "delicate condition", I took that to clothing sales and got my uniform paid for.  Or maybe I took that note to Finance and they gave me money to go buy the uniform --20-something year old details are sketchy. 

Remember, I was also keeping my pregnancy private for as long as I possibly could.  I'll be honest, some of that was due to shame, that social stigma put upon unwed pregnancies.  Part of it was I just didn't know how to tell everyone.  And lastly, I was still waiting to hear from Newsome and I'm not sure if this even makes any sense at all but it seemed like until it was "our" news and not just "my" news, I didn't want people to know.  I'm not sure if I can really explain that.

My BDU's were getting tighter so I kept letting them out a bit and then leaving the top button undone, then the second button undone, etc.  Yes, I was stubborn and yes, I was afraid to "out" myself but I also knew soon enough, my pregnant belly would tell on itself.

My doctor put me on a PT Profile which stated I only had to run if I felt up to it and I could walk instead of run.  Well, I didn't give that profile to anyone because you know --the secret and all, so I was running PT every day still but my doctor assured me it was okay as long as I felt okay.  He said being pregnant was not the time to take up a new exercise regime but you certainly could continue one already in place.  This certainly was quite a feat considering I was still battling sickness and not eating and ----

And if it sounds like the root of all of this was vanity and pride, it really was deeply rooted in shame.  I was still learning how to embrace forgiveness.

Actually, I was still learning how to embrace a lot of things.

I went to get my maternity uniform at Clothing Sales.  They don't keep the maternity clothes on the floor so you have to ask for them.  The sales lady went into the back and came back empty handed and apologetically said, "I'm so sorry but we are out of maternity BDU's in fact, we are out of all maternity uniforms.  They have been on back-order for quite a long time now and I'm not sure when we will get them in."

I was so happy I wanted to kiss her --smack dab on the lips --but I didn't. 

And then it occurred to me, if I could not get a maternity uniform what would I wear?

You Get What You Pay For

One day while at my OB appointment I struck up a conversation with a young soldier in the waiting area -- or rather, she probably struck one up with me because you know, I'm usually not the strike up type but . . . turns out she was a soldier from my unit.  I wasn't exactly thrilled about meeting someone from my unit but she was nice enough.

A few days later having mustered up the courage once again to brave the Mess Hall, I went in for lunch.  I was sitting at the table forcing myself to eat when the young soldier sees me and sits at the table withe me.  After lamenting about our sicknesses and general pregnancy woes, I told her I was looking for an apartment but I wasn't able to get BAQ so I was hoping to find something I could afford.  The young soldier told me that she and her husband were searching for an apartment too but then they got into military housing so they didn't need an apartment after all  BUT there was a guy that worked in this very Mess Hall that owned some apartments and I should talk to him.

Sitting in the Mess Hall I was absolutely sick of the smells and inability to eat the food.  I had long ago grown weary of living in the barracks and I was so determined not to go through my pregnancy living in the barracks.  I was already feeling shameful for being pregnant out of wedlock and I wanted as much "normalcy" as I could possibly get.  At a moment of absolute desperation, I thought I found the perfect solution --the timing was perfect.  I was in the Mess Hall.  Someone in the Mess Hall owned an apartment.

A perfect match.

After eating or rather, not eating, I went and talked to the guy.  He was an older gentleman, had served 20 years in the Army as a cook and was now retired --well, working as an Army cook.  Sometimes you just can't break away.  He was very nice and I explained to him I was expecting and how miserable I had been and how I needed an apartment --

I guess I sounded pretty desperate.  He said if I could bring him one month's rent and the $200 deposit he could have a lease ready for me to sign that very day.  We shook on it, I headed off to the bank to withdraw the funds.  Oh, the apartment was furnished too.  I mean, how PERFECT was this going to be?

Let's not forget I'm a JAG soldier --do you not recall the stories I told about soldiers getting themselves into bad leases/legal agreements?  Should I have not been someone that KNEW BETTER? 

I'll blame the hormones --or lack thereof or whatever funky frame of mind my pregnancy put me into.

That evening as soon as I got off from work I brought the guy $385, $185 for the first month's rent and $200 for the deposit.

Yes, that's right I said only ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT-FIVE DOLLARS A MONTH.

You do get what you pay for.  It's true.

And if all of this wasn't enough RED FLAGS for you, I signed the lease sight unseen because you know, the guy made it sound so nice and he was so friendly and warm.

I handed him the cash, we signed the lease, he handed me the keys.  I just couldn't wait to get back to the barracks, pack up my things --AND GET TO GOING!!!

BAQ

Apartment shopping was discouraging.  I didn't own a stick of furniture nor the means to go out and buy any.   I needed a month's rent in advance plus a month's rent deposit.  I figured it was going to be a few months before I could afford to move out on my own unless ---- I could get BAQ and Separate Rats.

BAQ = Basic Allowance for Quarters and Separate Rats = Separate Rations.  BAQ is money the Army pays you for your living expenses and Sep Rats is what the Army pays you to eat.  Married soldiers get both as they normally live on their own, single soldiers sometimes get them, sometimes.

I'm really unclear about how the regulation worked on these matters but what I remember goes something like this:

In most cases, if you live in the barracks you get a meal card so you don't get Sep Rats.  Some soldiers living in the barracks would get Separate Rats if for instance, they worked shift hours so they were not able to eat in the Mess Hall during normal duty hours, etc.    BAQ was paid out if you did not live in Army Quarters.  Since I was given a private room in the barracks the Army pretty much figured they were more than doing their fair share to house me and thus, I was not allowed to move off post and collect BAQ.  My CO could make an exception OR --you can get a medical exception  --and pregnancy was one of those exceptions only you had to wait until your 7th month of pregnancy OR have a doctor's note earlier on.

I went to my doctor and explained to him I could not rest in the barracks, that it was too loud at night and especially on weekends.  I also explained to him how sick I was and that I just was not able to eat in the Mess Hall or on the Mess Hall schedule.  I pretty much figured it was a done deal and then my doctor said --no!  NO?  He told me I was nearing the end of my first trimester and the sickness would soon go away so I'd be able to sleep and eat on a normal schedule.  He saw no medical reason why I should be granted a medical exception to live off post.  He also argued, "Besides, it will be just a few months before you can get BAQ."

FEW MONTHS?  Did he not understand I said I DETERMINED I was not going to go through my pregnancy living in the barracks!  Did he not understand how HUGE I would be at 7 months?  I wanted out of the barracks BEFORE I started showing.

It wasn't that I couldn't live off post, I just couldn't get paid to live off post.

*sigh* So I was discouraged.

No More Bananas!

My sister Val booked her flight to Florida to visit my Mom and she was taking her children; Courtney and Brittany.  I think they planned to stay a week with Mom but they planned to surprise her.  My younger sister, Sam, was wrapping up her year away at school and she already had plans to spend time in Florida with Mom.  Val called me and asked if there was any way I could get away too, "Mom hasn't been feeling well.  She's going through a lot and has been so worried about you.  It would be really nice if we could all go spend some time with her --she would love that."

Since I had been in the Army and away from home so much and my Mom living in Florida, it had been years since Mom had all of her children together at the same time.  I agreed with my sister that it would be good for Mom so I told Val I'd see what I could do.

It was coming up to Memorial Day weekend so I put in for a 4-day pass.  I went to the on-post travel section and I booked a flight to Florida, keeping every bit of this a secret from Mom.

I was still sick most days though every now and then I'd have a good day --be able to eat and keep food down and get through the day feeling pretty good.  Then I'd still have really bad days when I couldn't so much as sip water without getting sick.

One morning about 4am I was sleeping soundly in my barracks bed when I heard all this commotion.  There was banging on my door, yelling and dogs barking.  I had no idea what was going on, still groggy from my sleep.  There was yelling for everyone to get up and stand outside their room.  I remember laying in bed afraid to get up because normally, I'd have to ease myself up each morning to prevent an onslaught of morning sickness and dizziness and general crapiness . . . but they kept banging on my door and yelling.

So I got up, threw on my robe and opened my door --all I remember is seeing people everywhere.  The MP's were there with the drug dogs and they came into my room and the MP (Military Police) dog was sniffing around and after making it clear he found nothing, they moved on to the next room --and all through the barracks.  It was a surprise drug inspection, which the Army did periodically.  But listen, I was pregnant and in no mind to live like this any longer.  Having already deciding I wasn't spending my pregancy in the barracks, this made that more of a sense of urgency.  I had to get out of their quickly.  I knew the rest of the day was going to be crummy because like I said, easing myself out of bed each morning with a few bites of saltine crackers is what seemed to keep the sickness at bay. 

After the inspection was over, I went back to bed fully aware of the fact that I was probably going to be sick for the rest of the day and in fact, I already felt it coming on.  I decided to forgo the Mess Hall that morning as food would proably only make me feel worse.  At the end of that day I was starving!  I had been up since 4am and had nothing to eat but a few bites of a saltine here and there.  I was dizzy but I felt like if I could eat I'd feel better.  So after work I headed for the Mess Hall.  As soon as I walked in I realized what a huge mistake that had been.  The smell was making me sick --just the smell of food and general cafeteria nastiness.  I went through the line looking for something rather bland I could eat but nothing appealed to me.  In the end, I decided on banana from the salad bar.  I sat at a table only because I felt like I was going to pass out and  I needed to rest for a minute.  I slowly ate my banana with each bite praying it would stay down.  When it seemed I could walk and drive wihtout the fear of passing out, I got up to leave.

I walked outside and walked over to a bush and threw up the banana.  It would be over five years before I'd eat another banana again. 

I just remember this feeling of humiliation --standing there publically throwing up, the barracks inspection that morning, conditions of living in the barracks, etc.  It made me feel exposed, or something, when all I really wanted was to quietly and privately go through my pregnacy --as a Mother, not as a Soldier.

A Hunting I Will Go

As promised, my father booked a flight and came to Kansas.  He got a hotel room for the night in Manhattan, a city just outside of Ft. Riley.  I met him there and he took me out to dinner.  Afterwards we went up to his room for privacy, to discuss the situation.

My father discussed with me options that were before me, as he felt; abortion, adoption, being a single Mother, marrying the father of my baby.  As he laid out the options and discussed the pros and cons of each one, I respectfully listened and I understood everything he was saying was coming from a genuine concern for me, his daughter.  I know he wanted what was best for me and ultimately, what he thought was best for the baby too.  In the end, we agreed to disagree.

I appreciated my father coming all the way to Kansas to see me.  In some ways though it seemed to complicate matters.  There were just so many voices and opinions that were being thrown at me. 

The one voice I really wanted to hear was Jerry's.  I had written him letter after letter after letter --sometimes I'd sit and write him 3 or 4 letters a day.  I was pleading with him to please contact me soon.  I realized how much time it took to get a letter to/from a military post overseas but I was so impatient and so desperate to hear from him.

In the meantime, no one at Ft. Riley knew I was pregnant and I intended to keep it that way for as long as I could.

One Saturday morning I got up and went to take a shower.  Though the Ft. Riley, Kansas barracks certainly were a huge improvement from the WWII barracks I had lived in in Germany, it was still an Army barracks.  At least the showers were somewhat private --unlike the showers we had in Germany were there were just shower heads in a huge room --no partitions or curtains or privacy . . . .

So I wasn't hating the fact that the bathrooms in this barracks were much like a gym.  Each stall had a curtain you could close and though it wasn't complete and total privacy (the curtain didn't even reach all the way across), it was still something.  You had a small changing area with a bench and then you could step into the shower stall.  The bathrooms weren't far from my room but you had to walk past the CQ desk and through a hall to get to the bathrooms.  I had a shower caddy for my toiletries and would put on a robe and shower shoes and parade myself through the barracks to get to the bathroom.

This particular Saturday morning I was in the shower and there were several other females in there too --talking to one another about how drunk they were the night before, guys they hooked up with, their plans for the rest of the weekend, clubs they intended to party at, etc.  I'm just sitting there thinking about all of that --having to walk through the barracks to get to the shower, lack of privacy, the environment of living in the barracks and I thought to myself, "I"m not going through my pregnancy living in the barracks.  Period."  Seriously, when I started getting bigger and showing, was there any size robe that would completely cover me as I paraded through the barracks to the bathroom?  I decided that afternnoon I'd go apartment hunting.

Sharing My Joy

I don't remember how long I was down on my knees but I do remember I cried for a very long time.  I prayed for a very long time, a prayer of very few words, a prayer straight from the heart.

And then I laid on my Army barracks bed and my tears were as much about joy as pain.

Repentance.

Forgiveness.

Brokenness.

Restoration.


I felt Psalm 139 so profoundly mine, so specifically written to me, it was unreal.  In fact, even now sometimes when I hear others quote a verse from Psalm 139 or a sermon on the same, I wonder how they know "my" verse.

And that got me so excited I couldn't keep all of this joy to myself.

Because the Word of God, it ignites.  Its alive, living, moving . . .

So I got up and drove myself back to the Call-Center.  This time I placed a call to Brighton, Michigan.

My sister Val answered the phone.  I was crying as I tried to explain to her  . . . the unexplainable --when God just quietly steps into your life, your situation.  I mean just like that.  And I said to her, "I read my Bible and in Psalm 139 I read . . "

My sister stopped me and asked, "How did you find that verse, who told you about that?"

And now she was crying.  We talked and shared.  It was amazing.

For the first time in a long time a huge burden was lifted from me.  I finally had a clarity of mind I had not had before.

Our conversation turned to our Mom.  As I mentioned earlier, Mom was having some headaches and memory loss and she had been going to her doctor trying to get to the bottom of it.   Val said to me, "Mesa, I'm worried about Mom.  I know something isn't right but I just don't know what it is.  Her doctor isn't doing anything for her but maybe she's not asking the right questions or something, I don't know.  Maybe she's not explaining things or maybe she needs a new doctor.  Anyway, I'm going down to Florida to visit her and I'm going to take her to the doctor so I can talk to him too and find out what's going on.  I think it would be a good idea for someone to be with her when she talks to her doctor. 

It was May 1988.

Surrender

Much like facing my earthly father, facing my heavenly father felt like it was going to be healthy dose of shame. I did not want to face either of them.

Sometimes when I called my mother at the sound of her voice I would just break down into tears. She heard the pain and confusion in my voice, my sobs, “Did you do what I said? Pray? Did you pray, Melissa?”

Silence. Sobs.

It did not sound like lecturing. It sounded like an honest plea from a mother’s heart that felt ill equipped to help her daughter.

“Did you hear from Jerry yet? . . . Maybe you need to talk to a Pastor. Do you have a church you can go to? Do you know anyone there?”

“Mom? Mom, please come get me. Let me come there. I can’t stay here alone. Mom, please . . .”

“Melissa, listen to me. You can’t just leave the Army. What do you think coming here would do? It just moves your problems from Kansas to Florida, that’s all. Why are you being so stubborn? I keep telling you, you are feeling confused because you won’t pray. You are not alone, Melissa. Why won’t you turn to the Lord? Why? I’m praying for you so hard, every day I ask the Lord Jesus to protect you and help you to see. I asked my church to pray for you and your baby –and for Jerry. You go do the same thing too and you’ll see. Trust me. Trust me, Melissa. You’ll see.”

I left the call center angry, angry at my mother that she wouldn’t help me –though I had no concept of what “help” I was looking for. She was my mom, I just wanted her to make everything all better. Just one simple kiss on a scraped knee and I’m good to go. . .

But this was not just a scraped knee . . . .

I was driving back to the barracks and I started to pray –sort of. It was really more like telling God why I wasn’t going to pray as if to say, “I’m not talking to you and this is why.”

And it went something like this . . .

I can’t pray to you because I don’t even know you. I don’t know what to tell you, what to ask. I’m sure you don’t even want to hear from me –who would? Everyone is upset with me, why should you be any different? I want to ask for forgiveness but –I don’t deserve it. You’re not even listening now, are you? I don’t deserve to be heard, I know that. But if you can’t hear my prayers, please allow me to pray on behalf of my baby. Please don’t abandon me for my baby’s sake.

I prayed all the way back to my barracks room, feeling defeated, feeling sorry for myself, feeling abandoned. I went to my room and picked up my Bible. I have never in my life read the Old Testament. I laid on my bed, Bible in hand and whispered, “God, why won’t you speak to me? Where are you?” I opened my Bible and read:

O Lord, you have searched me
and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue
you know it completely, O Lord.

You hem me in—behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.

If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,"
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.

For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.

All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!

How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand.

When I awake,
I am still with you.

If only you would slay the wicked, O God!
Away from me, you bloodthirsty men!
They speak of you with evil intent;
your adversaries misuse your name.

Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord,
and abhor those who rise up against you?
I have nothing but hatred for them;
I count them my enemies.

Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.

With tears streaming down my face, I closed my Bible and I locked every word of Pslam 139 in my heart.  I got up, bent my knees down onto a cold, hard, tiled Army barracks floor.  Kneeling against my Army bunk, I nestled my elbows into the scratchy wool of a green Army blanket . . .

And without the need of any words spoken, muttered or even thought . . . .

With tears flowing from my heart as rapidly as they were flowing from my eyes . .

I opened my heart to a loving and forgiving God . . . .

A heart that was broken . . .

A heart that was confused . . .

A heart that was torn . . .

A heart that was full of sorrow . . .

And full of pain . . . .

And with my knees pressed against that cold, hard, tiled Army barracks floor . . .

I surrendered my heart to my God . . .

And for the first time in years I finally realized . . .

I was not alone.

Waiting

My letter was on its way to Germany.

My father was on his way to Kansas.

My mother was in Florida.

My older sister in Michigan.

My younger sister a student at Eastern Illinois University.

And I was all alone at Ft. Riley.  Being a Sergeant.  Being sick.  Hiding my sickness because I wasn't ready for anyone to know . . .

Staying locked up in my barracks room because I didn't want to get too close to people. . . .

When I could afford it, I'd head over to the call center to call my Mom.  She was always happy to hear from me.  Most of our conversations were just tearful sobs.  She always urged me to pray, to seek God's help and direction.

I was in this limbo place between homesickness and just feeling terribly lonely.  This wasn't the homesickness I felt in Germany, that intense longing for family and home.  No, this was different but in the same manner, it just left a huge void in my center.

And it just felt like that void could be filled if only --Newsome would call me, my family wouldn't be so upset with me, my Mom would come see me, I could just be home, I could get out of the Army, I could not have to go to Legal Assistance one more day, I was feeling better, Mom was feeling better, I had clearer direction . . .every day I longed for those things and I obsessed on those things and I felt that something had to give.  At some point the damn had to break and all of this worry and confusion had to come out. 

But it had no where to go.  No ears to fall upon, no shoulder to cry upon, no understanding or help . . . just anger and disappointment, confusion . . . And every day I'd hear my Mother's words, her urging me to pray and seek God.

But I thought didn't deserve God.  I didn't deserve forgiveness. I felt like God would tell me, "You got yourself into this mess, you get out of it."  Because I had been so far gone for so long.  How do I find my way back?  As I posted here, there wasn't much spiritual nourishment.

I waited.  I waited for a letter from Germany.  I waited for answers.  I waited for my father to arrive.  I waited for a break in my sickness.  I waited for clarity of mind. I waited to reveal my secret to everyone.  I just waited.

And patiently and lovingly, someone waited for me too.  I just didn't know it at the time.

My Baby, She Wrote Me A Letter

I feel like I'm writing a soap opera here only its my life. . .

As I previously stated, I decided the only way to contact Newsome was to write him a letter.  What's a pregnant soldier to do?

I don't remember the letter exactly but I do remember being scared.  What if he was mad?  What if he didn't want to be with me any more?  What if he found someone else?  What if  . . .I also remember giving him a ultimatum something like, "I need to hear from you by . . . " because I was so alone and I didn't want to be.

I was so insecure.

And what exactly did this mean for me?  Its not just about me anymore --there's another life involved and this life, this unknown life . . . among the many many things going on in my life at this time, I was coming up to the end of my enlistment.  Well, it was within  the next year and so I needed to decide if I wanted to reenlist.

Should I reenlist?  Make a career out of the Army?  Do I want to be a single Mom in the Army?  Do I want to marry Newsome and  be a dual military parent?  What if he doesn't want to marry me anymore?  Do I want to get out of the Army?  And go where?  Live where?  Do what?  Get a job?  With a baby?  What job?  Live with who?  Go back to Chicago?  It was just impossible to decide.  I longed for, ached to talk to Jerry.  I needed to hear his voice, I needed assurance and  . . . .

I was also very sick --throwing up all day and into the night.  I couldn't sleep or eat.  I was living on sips of water and saltine crackers.  Living in the barracks was less than desirable.  It was loud all of the time and even late into the night I'd hear drunk soldiers coming and going and loud music playing in the rooms.  I made no attempt to get to know any of the other soldiers --I had too much going on, I simply had nothing left to give.  A few of the females that lived down the hall came to my room to welcome me and invited me to come to their room if I ever needed anything. I was nice and cordial towards them but I never took them up on the offer. 

In the background of all of this, my mother was experiencing some headaches and something just didn't seem right to her.  She had been going to the doctor and they were trying a few things to try to alleviate her headaches.  She was communicating about it mostly with my older sister, Val, but Mom would tell me things here and there too.  No one had any reason to be alarmed.  I was talking to my Mom quite often - she would call me at the barracks or I'd go to the call center and call her.

When my Dad got the news about my pregnancy he called me right away --I was living in the barracks and he phoned me there.  I'm standing at the CQ (Charge of Quarters) desk with all these people around and noise and my Dad is asking me questions and wants to know what was going on --there's no privacy what-so-ever so I was giving him short answers, yes/no answers and then he asked me a question that just pierced my heart.  I can't explain it --maybe it was the tone of disappointment in his voice, maybe it was the sound of hurt in his heart and I'm standing at this desk trying so hard not to cry and my Dad asked me, "Why didn't you tell me?  Why didn't I hear this from you?"  Remember, my mother was the only one I personally told.  I didn't really have an answer for my Dad, at least not one I was willing to admit.  I said to him, "I don't know --it just seems like something a daughter would naturally tell her mother."

Silence.

But really the truth --

I was so ashamed of myself.

My Dad told me he was booking a flight to Kansas, he'd be there soon.

Insurance Policy

Another favorite --I mean, sad story but JAG to the rescue.

We had a young soldier that came in and sadly, his wife had been killed in a car accident.  He and his wife had just a few months earlier taken out life insurance policies so the wife was covered.  I want to say they had young children but I can't really remember the details but something strikes me as them wanting to get enough life insurance to enable one parents to afford child care  . . something along those lines (give me a break, we're talking over 20 years ago).

After his wife's death the soldier contacted the insurance company and shortly thereafter he received a letter that went a little something (more professionally written of course and sarcasm all mine) like this:

Dear Solider,
We are very sorry to hear of your wife's death. . . . . upon review of your policy we see it has only been in effect for two months . . . since you only paid two months premium we will gladly refund your money and you know, just call it even.  How's that sound, Soldier? And really, we are very sorry to hear about your wife . . .So please sign the enclosed document stating you want a refund and the check will be in the mail soon!  Very nice doing business with you.

The enclosed letter was full of legal jargon and gibberish intended to confused the poor guy and have him sign it and therefore forfeiting his TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLAR POLICY!  Thankfully, the soldier was confused enough to come to JAG and boy and I am glad he did.  The insurance company was trying to confuse and scam that guy out of the payout.  The attorneys turned that policy inside and out and determined the solder was entitled to the $200,000 --so they in turn wrote a nice little letter on behalf of the soldier --

Dear Stupid Insurance Company,
You should be ashamed of yourself for trying to scam people and confuse them into signing documents that you KNOW were intended to be misleading . . . In accordance with the terms of Soldier's policy, he'll be expecting his $200,000 check in the mail and you know THEN we'll just call it even.  Very nice doing business with you.
Signed,
A very smart JAG attorney
cc:  Better Business Bureau

Now THAT'S what JAG was supposed to be all about ---not so much on the eggshell paint, if you ask me.  There's the problem --no one asked me.

A Last Will and Testament

If I had a dime for every Last Will & Testament I did . . . . .

When a client came in for a Will they would have a private appointment to meet with the attorney but then the Will had to be drafted up and then client come back to execute the Will (sign it).  It was quite a process since they would have to read and review it, initial each page and then an attorney needed to be present when they signed it as well as two witnesses.  Once we got the Will drafted up, we would set up an Will Execution appointment but since we did literally hundreds of these a month, we'd squeeze as many people into the appointment as necessary.  We would take them into the conference room and just do a mass signing.

One appointment we had a full conference room.  We'd start out by explaining what we'd be doing and some legal stuff, of which I really don't recall, and then we'd get one of the attorneys to come in.  Normally since the attorneys were so busy with appointments, we'd call them in at the last minute.

This one particular time we were waiting on the attorney to come in so the clients were sitting around chit chatting.  There was this one young couple that had a baby that was only about a couple weeks old and since I was pregnant well --new mommies and pregnant women like to "talk shop" so I struck up a conversation with the young mother.

I forget where the couple was from but they had been high school sweethearts and got married soon after high school just before the young man enlisted in the Army.  It was a year or two later an now they were stationed at Ft. Riley and just had their first baby.  They were excited to soon be driving home because most of their family had not yet seen their baby girl.  They signed their Wills, went on their way and like the hundreds I had done before them, I never gave it another thought.

Not too long after that I heard of a soldier that was killed in a car accident.  It is always sad when anyone dies but soldiers especially don't like to hear about losing another soldier and since the guy was young, that was sad too.

A day or two later I walked into the office and notice this older couple in the waiting area and they had a baby with them --it caught my attention both because they seemed a bit old to have such a young baby but also because the baby looked familiar to me --but I did not give it much thought beyond that.  It was just a few minutes later my OIC called me into his office and asked me to pull a Will for a certain soldier.  I looked at the name and said, "I think we just did this one a few days ago, is there a problem?"  The Captain said to me, "Remember the soldier that was recently killed in a car accident?  Well, he and his wife were driving home for the holidays and they both were killed --only their infant daughter survived.  Since the guy was a soldier, they had the bodies sent here.  Both sets of parents are here to claim the bodies and take the grand daughter home --they're out in the waiting room.  We just need to give them a copy of the Will so they know who gets custody of the baby."

It turns out the maternal grandparents were named guardians of the child and that worked out well because the paternal grandparents wanted to be just that --grandparents.  They felt they were too old to raise a baby.  When I walked back out of my OCI 's office I looked over and saw the five of them sitting there; both sets of parents and the baby.  I just could not imagine their pain--they had not even buried their children yet and that baby . . . . she would never know her Mom and Dad.

Since that baby was only a few months older than my daughter, I often think about that girl --wondering how her life turned out, where she lived, if her grandparents lived long enough to raise her . . .I think about her sometimes and just wonder. . . .

And I will never ever forget the looks on those parent's faces as they sat in that waiting room waiting  . . . just waiting . . .waiting to get through legal paperwork, waiting to take their children's bodies home to bury them, waiting for answers, waiting . . . . hurting . . .holding on . . . .

You just don't forget things like that, ever.