Edyn Grace Dominguez.
Our little Grace baby. She was 8lbs and 1oz, 21 inches long, but 16 days early! Born on November 12th, and melted me, just like the 4 before her have.
I'm a mom.
Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I wanted to be a Mom. I got older, and tried pursuing what I thought my career life should be. I wanted to be an actress, no, a motivational speaker, no, an actress. Then I got into all the prereq's that every college says you have to take, and got discouraged.
"Why on earth do I have to take Biology 110, just to be a motivational speaker?"
My heart was hardened. I was mad. I was angry at the college system, I was angry because I was 18, and already in debt. So, I quit.
I quit it all.
I quit caring, I quit school, I quit listening to my parents, I quit listening to God.
I just quit.
The funny thing about quitting, and literally, throwing the E-brake on whatever "plan" you had been working on, is that you feel lost, almost immediately.
Then, you get found.
For some, you're found by a new calling, and so you take the E-brake off, and ease your way into it.
For others, like myself, you just quietly slip into darkness.
I was "found" by friends who encouraged my quitting.
"College is a societal norm that our government has pushed down our throats, to make more money."
(This wisdom came from a "friend" who was more focused on finding the next "buzz" to kill his loneliness, than he was on bettering himself.)
I listened. I sought the next buzz, as well. Trying to drown my own loneliness.
I stumbled deep into a darkness I'd never been in. I had friends, but felt lonely all the time. I was having fun, but felt empty.
I was broken, and too proud to allow anyone to pick up the pieces.
I've blogged about how Mark and I met, but have since started over in the blogosphere. So, since I'm feeling nostalgic, (and hormonal, from just having a baby) I thought it might be a good time to share our story, again.
Our's isn't for the faint of heart. It's a lot of broken pieces, that had to be divinely placed into the ever-changing masterpiece, that is our marriage today.
Mark and I met, in the middle of my darkness, or "funk", as we lovingly refer to it.
I was a pistol, aimed, and ready to shoot down anyone who tried to encourage me to do better, and Mark became my target. I worked at a video store, full time, after I quit school. It's where I met most of my "friends". And it's where I learned who I was, and who I was not.
"Hi, do you know of any good kids movies? Like, a cartoon, or something?"
"Uhh, yeah. Here's this one." I handed him Surf's Up.
"Have you seen this one? Is it good? I'm watching my friends' kids, and wanted to get a good movie."
Brushing him off, and still putting movies away.
"Uhh, yeah. It's really popular, and has been rented out for the past couple weeks."
"Okay! Thanks!"
The man with 800 questions finally left.
Our first interaction. Not as magical as most.
A few days later, he came back, to return the movie.
"Hey, thanks for the recommendation! The kids loved it!"
"What? Oh, yeah." I didn't even look up from scanning in movies. "You're welcome."
I scanned his movie in.
"What's your name?"
"Huh?" I looked up.
The tenderness in his face was real. He stared at me with hazel eyes, and a small smile.
"Sierra." I said, sounding harsh, mainly because I wasn't in the mood to talk.
In this funk of mine, I went from deep moments of introspection, to bursting out random, crazy ideas, that usually were just to draw attention to myself.
This day was no different. Deep thoughts, ignoring the world around me, then BAM. Being ridiculous.
"Nice to meet you, Sierra."
"Yeah, you too. What's your name?" (Just being cordial.)
"Mark," he said with a smile.
Good grief, his teeth were gorgeous. Straight, white, full smile.
"Well, Mark! Want to see my tattoo?" I said, with fire in my eyes.
Mark looked confused.
"What? Uhh, no, I'm good."
Aww, he's shy. That's cute.
"C'mon! Check it out! Isn't it cool?" I said, tempting him to look at my hip, as I lifted my shirt, slightly.
Mark, doing his best to look away, looked at the tattoo, and then looked me straight in my eyes. The softness was strengthened, by a set jaw. His soft hazel eyes were now firmly fixed on mine.
"Do you know what that symbol is?"
"Of course I do!" I chided back, quickly.
"It's the eye of Ra. It means protection."
His eyes narrowed, slightly, as he set his jaw firm.
"You might want to research that further."
And as soon as he came in, and pestered me with questions, the "ding" from the exit door was rung, and he left.
"What a pompous person," I thought, "Great teeth, but good grief, he was rude!"
I went back to scanning movies, giving no thought to the man with hazel eyes.
A week or so went by, and he returned. This time, I noticed him. The entrance door "dinged", and I looked up.
"Hi, welcome to the video store, Mark."
He looked over his shoulder, gave a nod of his head, to acknowledge me, and continued to scan the New Releases wall.
I picked up a stack of movies, and went to return them to the same wall. Partly, because it was my job, and partly, because I wanted him to notice me.
I felt a sense of shame, and desire, all at the same time.
I researched the symbol. It did mean "protection". It was the Egyptian god, worshipped, so that people would receive "protection". It wasn't the protection I believed in. It was simply me being 18, and proving to my parents, and the world, that I was an adult.
Now that I knew it's true meaning, I felt guilty for spending $60 on something so foolish.
"Need any recommendations?" I asked.
He had his arms folded together, and his right hand resting on his chin. His brows were furrowed, as he scanned the many different titles.
"Hmm?" he said, breaking his stare from the movies, and leaning towards me. Still no eye contact.
"Recommendations. On movies. Do you need another one?" I asked, sounding like I was stuttering.
"Oh! I'm good. Thanks, though." He answered, and then went right back to scanning.
My arm was aching from the amount of movies I had picked up, and so I started to walk away. I turned quickly, and ran into the "Free Kids Movies" stand. All 30 clear cases leaped from my arm, all over the floor, as well as some of the kids movies cascading off the stand, into the heaping pile of cases.
Smooth.
My cheeks were hot, I quickly bent down, and started picking them up.
His voice was right behind me.
"Here, let me help you."
"I'm good, thanks. Really, I've got it." I said, as I kept my head pointed at the pile, wanting to melt into a tiny puddle.
"I know you've got it. I can still help."
His hands started stacking up movies.
"Where do these go?" he asked, genuinely.
"Uhh, thanks. You don't have to do that. Those are the H-K New Releases. They go on the wall stand, by the video games."
(Still not making eye contact.)
"Did you research the symbol."
This time, I looked up, surprised.
"Yes," I said, with my jaw set firm, but shame in my eyes. I looked back down.
"So, is that what you believe in?" He had a tenderness in his voice.
"No." I said, still staring at the floor. "I believe in God."
In that moment, I looked up at him. My defense was broken, and he could read it all over my face. I was drained, and my big eyes revealed exhaustion. Underneath all the make up, was a girl who was tired of searching.
I don't know what he saw. I didn't really care. If he didn't like me, I had no energy left to pretend I was worth liking.
"Good. Me too!" He said with a chipper voice. He got up, from the crouched position of picking up movies, flashed a smile, and headed to the H-K section of the store to put up movies.
"Good?" I thought. "What?"
I was befuddled, and yet, intrigued.
I scooped up the last of the movies, and got up. I started walking along the wall, just listening, and sometimes stealing glances at him.
He was dressed in tennis shoes, gray sweatpants, a navy long-sleeved shirt that was loose enough to flatter, but tight enough to reveal arm muscles. He had a dark gray beanie on his head, that revealed wings of wavy, dark brown hair, that peaked through, over his ears. He whistled, while he worked.
I was completely perplexed.
Yet, I knew I wanted to be around him. I wanted to talk to him, and explain that I got the tattoo foolishly. I believed in God, but wasn't sure if He believed in me. I was broken, and had made mistakes. I was tired of running, but afraid to stop. I chose a life of searching for the world, and was afraid God wouldn't want me. I was a mess. But too proud to ask for help. From God, from my parents, from anyone. I just knew I wasn't worthy of being picked up, and dusting myself off.
And yet?
He pursued me. He questioned me. He revealed an inner beauty, I didn't know I had. He gave me hope of a dream, I had since I was little. A dream to get married. A dream to hold a tiny human who needed me.
He gave all of that to me. He gave me Mark. He gave us our 5 children. Five. Most scoff at me.
I've had people take a few steps back from me. I always had this dream, and yet, the questions pour in, mainly in public, when grocery shopping with them all.
"Your hands are full, huh?"
"Do you have kids just to live off the government?"
"Are you just religious?"
"Are they all yours?"
"You look too young to have this many. Are you married?"
"When are you going to stop?"
"Don't you have enough?"
And here I sit...
I have a 2 week old.
She is beauty, she is grace.
She is His grace.
The same grace that He picked me up, and dusted me off with, she is that.
Because each tiny human that enters my world chisels away another blemish on my heart. They cause me to give until I have nothing, and to lift my hands up, and ask Him for more energy to give. They cause Mark and I to wake up in the morning, look at each other, and smile, as we hear the symphony of noise that 3 boys can create together. They cause Mark and I to tear up, as we stare at the beauty of two girls. They cause Mark and I to deep, belly laugh, at the words they say, and the things they do. They cause Mark and I to drop to our knees, and beg God for understanding, for wisdom. They are late nights, and early mornings. But they are joy in both. They are something I can't wrap my head around, and yet, they are the one job I've had in my life, that at the end of every day, I say "It's so worth it."
I don't make sense to most. And that's okay.
I didn't make sense to most when I was 18, why should now be any different?
I have a God that sees me, and loves who I am.
...and I have a husband that found a deeper beauty, amidst my sin. He still does that.
That's what I dreamed of, as a little girl. I knew I didn't fit in a particular "box". I just wanted to love unconditionally, and be loved unconditionally. Through God, my husband, and my children, I have that.
I'll continue our story in another blog, very soon. For now, I need to change a diaper, and give a bath to my sweet Edyn.
Be blessed, dear friends.