This was not what I was expecting. I was expecting to move to Miami at some point in the next 6 months. I was expecting to see my husband go full-time in his dream job. I was expecting great things, we were dreaming big dreams. Doors of opportunity were opening everywhere. It felt like life was building up to something amazing.

Jon had been saying since last fall, “I feel like something is going to happen in April!” We heard rumors that the Estefans were going to be at Costa the weekend before it happened. He thought maybe he would get another chance to speak with them. They didn’t show, but someone else was there offering him yet another gig in Miami. Things were happening. We were excited about the future. Then two policemen showed up at my door and in a second everything slammed to a halt. Everything that I expected of my life was destroyed. Where I once saw a clear picture of the future I see nothing.

After a few days of shock and despair, I began to try and piece together what I was going to do. I had to get out of Sebastian. I could barely make it through the mall to buy a dress for the funeral service without seeing echoes of his memory in every corner. I had two options in mind. I could move up with my sister Amber and start a new life in Jacksonville. I knew a couple of people there and I could continue with school. Or, the plan I was leaning towards was to go back to Nashville and enroll in the second year of the ministry school I had attended several years back. It would give me a chance to try and figure out what I was supposed to do with the rest of my life and I would also have the benefit of being surrounded by people who knew how to pray in an environment designed to heal hurting hearts.

Then I was hit by a second blow. At first, I didn’t see the second pink line. I was so relieved. It was just the stress making me late. Then I looked closer and began to tremble as I saw the slightest hint of a second line. I braced myself on the bathroom counter and sobbed. A second test confirmed a much bolder line. Pregnant. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this whole time. There was that one time, one moment of carelessness. That’s all it took. I took the test at 5am and cried until Jocelyn woke up at 7. It took me a couple more hours to accept it before I could call his parents and let them know.

Most people say it’s a blessing. Lots of “so exciting!” and “happy for you”. But truthfully, though I have accepted the fact that I am carrying Jon’s last child, I haven’t been able to feel happy about it. At best I can say I’m ok. But this means I cannot move forward for nearly two years. Jocelyn finally is at a place where she isn’t as dependent on my physical presence, but a baby will need me nearby for a while. So now I feel stuck. With Jocelyn, it would be difficult, but I feel like I could have made it on my own. But now, with another child…

I know there are many people who want to help. I am very blessed that both my family and his family are so loving and supportive. But the thing is, I’m afraid now with two children I will always be dependent on the kindness of others. That my life will be forever in a state of trying to survive instead of the adventure I had envisioned with Jon. I know I will make it through, but really, I’m not ok. This whole situation is not ok.