Short Stories

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Stronger Than You Think
By Jeannie Kirchen
I came into this world fighting for survival. I was born prematurely, weighing only four pounds and thirteen ounces. My mother had been having complications with her health that threatened her being able to have me on my due date. Therefore, the doctor wanted to induce labor and gave my parents the option of having me on New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day. My parents chose New Year’s Eve.
My mother called me strong! She always said, “You are stronger than you think.” Even though I was small, I became the oldest sibling of one sister and two brothers. I grew up in a small town and nothing compares to small town living. Neighbors looking out for neighbors was a way of life that enriched my growing up years. Even though it seemed there was never anything going on in this little town, we always found ways to have fun. The highlight of the summer was the Farmers Picnic. There were games, carnival rides, yummy food, softball, and many other exciting things to do. As kids, we could never get enough. All too quickly, the Fair ended and we had to find other ways to amuse ourselves, which in our case was never hard.
I walked around town with friends. We biked, we took hikes to the woods behind the school, we played tag, and ran back and forth across the street without fear of speeding cars. The carefree days of my childhood were the most fun days of my young life.
However, the years passed much too quickly and graduation day arrived. As much as I had loved school, I was ready to leave home and start my own life. In my generation and in previous generations, most women did not go on to college. Their only wish was to be a wife and mother; my desire was no different. My boyfriend had been discharged from the army in February, and we were married in October. My husband had been a Vietnam Veteran, and he was anxious for some stability in his life. I was eager to help build a foundation of love, faith and trust in each other and in our God. My family had not been regular churchgoers, but I knew that I wanted to go to church. For as long as I remember, I had believed in God and I wanted that belief to carry on to my children.
I had my first child when I was only nineteen years old. Rebecca was beautiful, the perfect blend of her father and me. Two years later Johnathon was born. I could not have asked for a more adorable baby boy. After Johnathon, I had two miscarriages, but finally Lesleyann arrived to complete our family. My world seemed perfect. In my mind, my marriage was wonderful, but life is not always, as it seems. An unavoidable incident entered my life, and I was pulled into a world that I did not want to be a part of. I wanted reality to be a bad dream from which I would soon awaken, but that didn’t happen. My husband of thirteen years left me for an older woman.
Wow! Was I ever shocked? I had missed all the signs. How could he do this to me, to our children? There were many feelings that plagued me during this time: anger, resentment, fear, hatred, and depression. I had to deal with each of these emotions as they came. Not dealing with them would only have made me more miserable. There were times however, that I found dealing with these emotions on a daily basis far too difficult. I wanted to scream, run away, and throw fits, anything to make the pain go away. Friends and family would ask me how I was doing, and I always replied, “fine”, when inside I was screaming, screaming for control, screaming for some sanity, for a normalcy that was no longer there. In spite of my belief in God, I became very depressed. I couldn’t eat; I couldn’t sleep; I lost weight. I didn’t care if I lived or died. I thought about ending my life, but I was too scared to. Therefore, I prayed that God would give me an incurable disease, anything so that I wouldn’t have to face what was going on in my life at that moment. And God intervened. I realized that to take my life would be a selfish act. I was thinking only of myself and my own pain. I wasn’t thinking about my children, my siblings or my parents. The next ten years were extremely difficult ones for my children and me. I went back to school for a while, but raising three kids and trying to work were about all that I could handle at that time. Luckily, I had the love and support of my family and my church family. Throughout this time, my mother kept saying, “you are stronger than you think.” She called me the strong one in the family. Sometimes I wondered if she knew what she was talking about.
Thirteen years after my divorce, I met the man who would become my second husband. Upon marrying him, I gained three more children. Together we are the proud parents of six children and seven grandchildren. These children/grandchildren are truly a blessing to me. Their lives are a precious gift, for each one is the treasure of my life. They are like a locket that hangs around my neck with their names engraved deeply into my heart. I enjoy seeing them as much as I can, and I spoil my grandchildren whenever I get the chance. I am sure that most grandparents do.
As a single mom, I worked in a number of different jobs trying to make ends meet. As I stated earlier, those were difficult years; they challenged my character and my strength. I worked making pizzas, I babysat, I worked in foster care and day care; I was even a telemarketer. One day I decided to start my own house cleaning business; I liked the idea of being my own boss. Life was starting to get better and my second husband gave me much needed support in all of my endeavors. Throughout this time, my mother kept reminding me of how strong I was. I was beginning to believe her.
The turning point in my life came when I got divorced. This was something that I never expected. I had always believed in a fairy-tale marriage. You fall in love; you get married, and then you live happily ever after. Not always so. Life does not work that way. Circumstances happened that were beyond my control, and I had to learn how to deal with the unexpected. I went from being married to single. I went from having a thousand dollars a week to not having any money at all. I discovered what it was like to be poor. I learned to swallow my pride and ask for help when I truly needed it. I realized that life is what you make it. I rose above my depression and decided that no matter what, I was going to be happy. At first, this was not easy, but the more I told myself that I was happy, the easier it became for me to believe it. This new attitude helped my children feel more self-assured. I started to have fun with them. There were times that I would wake them up early, and we’d get into the car and drive. I wouldn’t tell them where we were going because I wanted to surprise them. I did not always have the money, but I did it anyway. This was necessary for our overall well-being. We ended up in places that we’d never seen before, and it was fun. We went anywhere and everywhere, just to say that we’d been there. These adventures made a significant improvement in our lives, especially knowing that God was with us wherever we went.
Throughout my life, my mother kept telling me I was strong. I didn’t understand it much then, but I do now. I’m really starting to see the impact of her words. I was a preemie, and back then, preemies didn’t always survive. I believe that she called me strong because she wanted me to be. Somehow, she must have realized that there were going to be times in my life when I needed to be strong. There have been occasions when I’ve felt so overwhelmed, and I didn’t think I was going to make it, but I did. My love and faith in God helped pull me through many bad circumstances in my life. Each time a situation came along and filled me with despair, God has helped me muster up the courage to pull through. I am a survivor. My mother was and always has been rooting for me. She has passed on, but today her words still echo in my mind and heart, “you are stronger than you think.”

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