EPISODE 2 EPISODE 2I swore I’d never do it.
But there I was on a gurney, begging my doctor to please, for the love of God, give me a flipping epidural right this minute. It was the birth of our third child, Lilly, and up until that point, I had insisted on enduring labor pains without medication.
Ridiculous, I know. Something a crunchy California nurse had said during my first prenatal classes had me believing epidurals caused prolonged contractions and emergency C-sections. However, twelve hours into labor number three, I discarded my fears, scruples, and dignity, and begged the doctor to inject me with something—morphine, vodka, battery acid, anything to stop the pain.
Life is funny like that. One minute, we think we have it all figured out, and the next thing we know, we’ve changed our own rules. Milestones like marriage, childbirth, military service, parenting teens, and financial responsibility present us with new sets of circumstances requiring new standards.
Before marriage, I rolled my eyes at those couples I’d see canoodling in public. “They’re faking it,” I thought, and believed people in real relationships didn’t give each other eyelash kisses and lick ice cream off each other’s noses. I thought I’d never be corny like them.
Within weeks, we became one of those annoying couples who couldn’t be in each other’s presence without fingers laced or limbs intertwined. We would stare into each other’s eyes, sniff each other’s hair (Francis had hair in those days), and pick little bits of lint and crumbs off each other’s clothing.
Nauseating!
During pregnancy, I said I would never nurse my baby in public, change his diaper while in an airplane seat, let him cry it out, strap him to a toddler leash, let him watch two Disney movies in a row, give his binky back after he dropped it in the dirt, or scream like a lunatic at his pee-wee soccer games.
Oh well.
Military spouses make rules to stay organized and deal with stress. Some proclaim they’ll never live on base, join spouse clubs, or let the kids eat Fruit Loops for dinner during deployments. But at some point, “I will never” turns into “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
Parenting teenagers crushed my “never” edicts like walnuts. Despite my many prohibitions, I eventually gave in and let them use electronics in their rooms, watch R-rated movies, and wear jeans to church. And I’ll admit—I’ve used my cell phone to call them for dinner, even when they’re in the same house.
Once we felt the pinch of college tuition bills, I started pushing my Aldi cart a half mile across the parking lot in a torrential downpour just to get my quarter back. I’ve waited around at the commissary for a rotisserie chicken to be reduced to three ninety-nine. And after going to the movies (using a military discount) I’ve even found popcorn in my bra and eaten it.
Reality has driven us to do things we previously thought tacky, lazy, or negligent. But life’s challenges and milestones have also revealed courage, strength, and character we never thought we had.
So, whether choosing between a minivan or a sports car, or deciding whether or not to stay in the military for twenty years, experience instills this simple life lesson: Never say never.