Haters gonna hate...

I don’t know why life has to be so unpredictable. I had my day all planned out—wake up and run 4 miles, get home and shower, wake up children for camp, make their lunches while they eat breakfast, drop them off, go to library and finish homework, and then come home and take a short nap before picking up children and  making dinner. Sounds like a reasonable plan. I had even done all the grocery shopping this weekend so the meals were ready. So much for plans.

About mid-way into my morning, I received an email from an old friend. I hadn’t heard from him in a while since we aren’t friends any more. He did some things to his family that I don’t agree with and I got tired of his constant complaining and blaming everyone else for his problems. I told him several years ago, “I don’t want to be your friend. I don’t like how you live your life, I’m tired of your games, and there is no amount of history that is going to make me change my mind.”

In his email he tried to be nice in his own weird way, but it was obvious that he contacted me for selfish reasons. He tried to make me understand that my blog was just my hateful way to bash my ex-husband—I believe the words he used were “smear campaign.”

But as much as I tried to ignore it, it bothered me. There was a time when I really respected this guy's opinion and his words made me feel shaky. I decided to leave the library and go home to my husband. I needed a hug.

I guess there will always be a part of me that wants everyone to like me. I know there is a part of me that is bothered by the fact that someone will try to turn other people against me. I work hard to always do the right thing and it is important to me to think that others respect me.

But life has taught me many things these past few years.

1.     Don’t make plans

2.     Don’t be so hard on myself

3.     Don’t waste time trying to prove you are a good person

I don’t need to be liked by everyone. I don’t need to explain myself to people who don’t matter. I don’t need to prove anything. My life is an open book, and I don’t need to justify it to give folks around me that warm-fuzzy feeling.

This blog isn’t a platform for an angry bitter woman who feels the need to air her dirty laundry to the world in an effort to make her ex-husband look like a jerk.

It’s a platform for the voice of a woman who was very lost for a very long time. And it’s not just my voice. It’s the voice of every person who has ever been a victim of adultery. It’s also the voice of every person who has ever made mistakes in judgment, parenting, or relationships. It’s the voice for those of you who haven’t found the courage to tell your story. It’s a voice that I thought was long gone—a voice that gave up on happiness and success, but somehow found her way back to herself and the life she was meant to live.

So, if you don’t like what I write about, then please stop reading my blog. And if you can’t stop reading, then just keep your comments to yourself, because despite the fact that I say I am strong, I still have issues with hate mail and threats. I have never written anything untrue or malicious. I write to heal.  I’m just trying to live my life and be a good person. Perhaps you should try it.

No backing down

Some days I wished I had taken a different route in college and became something else. Like on the days when I am having problems with Veronica’s leg braces and I wish I had gone to prosthetics school so I could help her myself. Or the days when the children are sick and I wish I was a nurse so I didn’t have to pull them out of bed and take them to a doctor’s office.

Then there are days like today when I wish I had gone to law school. I was always very interested in mass communications law and theories and I had strongly considered going to law school after undergrad. But I didn’t and now I need some serious legal advice.

I knew this day would come. My ex-husband moved to town. He has been pleasant, but not much else has changed. He continues to push the fact that he does not have overnight visitation with the children. He believes it is my fault and he is threatening me with the usual, “I will drag you into court and make you pay for this.” Same song, different day…

But it’s not my fault. His lack of visitation is due to the fact that he never took care of his business. If he had followed through on his court ordered evaluation with the family psychologist, then he would have had normal visitation with the children over 2 years ago and this wouldn’t be an issue. Instead he decided to do things his own way and do what he wanted to do. After all, his favorite catch phrase is “rules are for chumps.”

When my ex-husband and I separated back in 2009, I had some very damaging proof against him that he didn’t want released in court. It gave me the upper hand, and I needed the upper hand. He had done things to put the children and me in serious danger, and I couldn’t allow him to be alone with them until he proved that he had undergone serious psychological treatment.

For those of you who have been divorced and through a custody battle, you know that most judges could care less about “accusations” made against the mother and father. They tend to just split custody and force the parents to share the children. The children have no one to advocate for them and life goes on…

My upper hand gave me the chance to say, “Hey, I have serious reasons to keep the children protected.” And by some miracle, people listened to me. Well, they listened a little bit. But it was enough for me to protect the children and buy some time until they were old enough to protect themselves.

Now, if someone had told me that I had to do X, Y, and Z in order to have my children, I would have done it immediately. But not my ex-husband. In his first chance, he did X for a little bit. But since he feels rules are for chumps, he thought he would take me on in our final court hearing and win. But I agreed with the court to give him a second chance.

So, he was given a second chance to do X, Y, and Z. He did X and Y. But he never did Z. I mean why should he? Rules don’t apply to him. After all, he just assumed he would take care of Z later and everyone would be fine with that. I mean, why not? He has always been able to do whatever he wants, and he lives under the notion that if you let enough time pass, people will forget about Z and all will be forgiven.  I would that he is usually right about that, too.

So, now I am remarried and happy. Life has gone on for me. Enough time has passed that I have lost steam when it comes to court battles and I just want this to be over with. But I’ll be damned if Z is going to be swept under the rug because I’m too tired to fight.

The notion of Z rears its ugly head about every 6 months when my ex-husband casually mentions that he is taking Jude on a camping trip or that he is taking the children to spend the night at the beach and I have to say, “Sorry, you can’t do that until you take care of your business.”

Then my ex-husband uses it as a threat to me with the words, “Fine, I will take care of it and then you can’t tell me what to do ever again!” But what he doesn’t understand is that I don’t care if he takes care of Z. Taking care of his business would be best for everyone. I wished he would have almost 2 years ago. But he didn’t and now it is my responsibility to decided when and where he can see the children. It’s a horrible burden on me.

But, I followed the rules. I completed X, Y, and Z several times even though I didn’t need to.  I was questioned and humiliated. I have been told that “I just need to let things go” and “quit being angry with the fact that my husband cheated on me.” I have been made to look like the perpetrator instead of the victim. And I swear to God that if it hadn’t been for other women like me, I would feel crazy.

So it begins again—calls to attorneys, scrambling to find out my rights, and nightmares and panic attacks. But, I’ll be damned if I let everyone forget about Z. It’s still there and it needs to be addressed—Z came about for a very important reason. This is a battle worth fighting for. So, get ready—I plan to not only follow the rules, but I’m going to enforce them as long as I can.  I will never be too tired to make sure Z is resolved.

Arthrogryposis Awareness Day

Today is Arthrogryposis Awareness Day. If you don’t know someone with Arthrogryposis, then you probably have no idea what I am talking about.

My daughter Veronica was born with Arthrogryosis. It’s a congenital condition that causes the joints not to form correctly. Considering the fact that the body has over 300 joints, there are many variations of this disease.

Despite the fact that Veronica has a hard time walking and bending her knees, her case is actually quite mild compare to most of the other children we have met with the disease. When Veronica was born, she had clubbed feet, her left arm didn’t move, her hands her pulled toward her inner forearms, her head was cocked to the left side, her knees didn’t bend, and her hips were dislocated. I was told she would never walk.

But after the hell I had been through with trying to diagnose her, walking was the least of my concerns. I just wanted her to live.

Veronica scuba diving

And boy has she lived. There is something very unique about all the Arthrogryposis children I have met at different children’s hospitals and Camp Just Like Me. They seem smarter than most children and they have an amazing sense of humor. And it’s not just my motherly pride talking--I’ve had doctors tell me that they have observed the same mannerisms.  Their smiles are inspiring and they grow up to do amazing things as adults.

I have been extremely lucky with Veronica. When she was first born, we lived close to Seattle where they have one of the few Arthorogryposis clinics for children. Veronica was seen by their doctors when she was 5 days old and I believe that is the reason she can walk and use her arms today.

Veronica at Camp Just Like Me

We are also lucky that we have met other children and adults with Arthrogryosis. Some people live their entire lives without meeting anyone just like them. It is a relatively rare disease that occurs in about 1 in every 3,000 births. I had never heard about it until the day the doctor told me my baby had it and even the doctor couldn’t pronounce it correctly.

I have also been very lucky in the fact that I had insurance when Veronica needed it. There was about 8 months after my ex-husband left that I couldn’t get insurance for her and my ex-husband refused to provide it. You see, Arthrogryposis is one of those pre-existing conditions that private insurance companies refuse to cover--that is why I support the Affordable Care Act. No one should ever be stuck without health insurance like I was. Not being able to take care of your child’s health is a nightmare, and people need to understand that anyone can end up losing their health insurance at any time.

But I think everything happens in life for a reason. It’s hard to raise a special needs child but compared to most parents with special children, I have it pretty easy. Veronica has never been on the brink of death. She is very intelligent. She has a lot of friends and she is very social. Sure we have spent a lot of time in the hospital and it’s frustrating to know that there are things in life that she will never be able to do like run or wear sandals, but I can live with that.

I do know that I find myself in situations where I get to be the person in the room who has advice for parents like me. I get to take all the knowledge I have accumulated about doctors, hospitals, physical therapy, dressing devices, leg braces, special tennis shoes, wheelchairs, and health insurance and share that knowledge with people who need it.

A few days ago, I got a call from a woman who needed help writing a thank you letter to the newspaper. Her son was diagnosed with a rare brain tumor and he didn’t have health insurance because he chose to become a youth minister and the job didn’t come with benefits and he couldn’t afford private insurance. The community has rallied behind her son to help raise money for his care which must be paid prior to his treatment, and she wanted to write a letter to thank everyone.

I would have thought that she just needed my help writing the letter, but she really needed something else. She needed another mother who could understand what it is like to want to help your child, but finances and health insurance are holding you down. I told her about how I lost my health insurance when my former husband left the military and took a new job without adding the children to his new insurance plan and how humiliating it was to tell hospitals that I didn’t have insurance for my children. I tried to get a private plan that would cover Veronica, but there aren’t any. I couldn’t get her on Medicaid, because I wasn’t legally separated and my former husband made too much money to qualify and he refused to sign my papers for separation.

I told her something that I wish someone would have told me, “Never feel ashamed for not having the money you need to take care of your child. We all do our best, but sometimes things become too much and we fall short. These moments make us stronger and you must hold your head high.”

I also gave her some advice about how to get around certain hospitals with key phrases like “what is your quick pay charge?” I also admitted to her that I still didn’t have health insurance for myself. “I can’t afford it right now and I don’t have a full-time job that gives health benefits.” She looked at me and said, “You need to fix that as soon as you can so you don’t end up like me.”

As I drove home, I called Robby. “I need you to add me to your health insurance plan.” I realized how lucky I am to have that option now.

No matter what your political views are, we all have to agree that the health insurance system in our country needs work. We have the best medical care in the world and it is a shame not to give access to the people who need it the most. Should it be free? Of course not. But it should at least be accessible when you need it—especially when your life depends on it.

To procreate or not to procreate?

So, the big day has passed, and with the passing of the wedding comes the big question. Some people are brave enough to ask it to our face while most others just talk amongst themselves—when are we going to have a baby together?

So, it is time to address two topics that I have never written about. One is the reason I’m not having children. And two is the reason that Robby is not having children.

I had my tubes tied almost a year after Jude was born, so I cannot have any more children. I don’t want another baby. But yet, I didn’t want another baby after I had Veronica. I’m grateful for Jude. If it wasn’t for him, I would think I was the worst Mom ever. Veronica has never been satisfied and I would have spent my life trying to make the little princess happy. She’s a sweet girl and amazing girl, but she always wants more and sometimes I have nothing left to give.

Jude, on the other hand, is always happy. I used to feel like the most useless mom ever when he was a toddler because he would just play with his toys and smile and I would just sit and watch him and feel like I should be doing something to entertain him. He never cried. I wanted him to need me like Veronica did, but he didn’t. He was just happy to be in the same room as me. He is the dream child every mom hopes for—I hope it lasts forever.

But my body was not made for making babies. When I was about 6 months pregnant with Veronica, I found out I had a septate uterus. So she only had half of a womb to grow in. She got squished and it deformed her little limbs and gave her Arthrogryposis. I felt guilty for years. I am the reason she is disabled--that’s a heavy cross to carry.

Veronica kissing baby Jude

That guilt made me not want to have any more children. But my ex-husband wanted “loads” of children, so I backed down and told him I would think about having more.

I had surgery to repair my uterus and make it whole. I got pregnant soon after and 8 and half months later Jude was born. It was the delivery from hell and he almost died. The reason he almost died?—my uterus was deformed and it almost killed him.

I asked my ex-husband to let me have my tubes tied while I was having my C-section with Jude. But he said I was just hormonal from the pregnancy and he denied the surgery. For those of you who don’t know, a doctor in Georgia will not perform a tubal ligation without the consent of the husband.

I tried to make the case that the next baby could die or be deformed and that my body couldn’t take another pregnancy. But no one listens to a hormonal woman.

After I had Jude, I never felt well. I got sick with a lot with infections and weird female stuff. After several years of suffering, my doctor told me I needed to have surgery to repair my uterus for reasons I won’t burden you with, and that I needed to be smart and not risk another pregnancy.

My ex-husband was in Iraq at the time and I had to talk to him about it over the phone. He relented and granted the doctor permission to perform the surgery. I have never felt better and he never forgave me.

Ugh...pregnant in the Georgia heat is not something anyone should repeat

But Robby’s reasons for not wanting a baby are different. Some of you do not know that Robby has end stage kidney failure and he is on dialysis. It’s not a big secret, but it’s hard to know how to work that bit of information into a conversation or a blog.

We joke about how you tell people you have kidney failure. They say, “Hey, those tomatoes are ripe.” And you say, “Yes, they are. My kidneys don’t work anymore.” And we laugh, but it’s not a heartfelt laugh.

Robby has always said that he never wants to pass his congenital kidney problems onto a child. He made the resolution to never have children years before he met me.

I think that is one of the reasons we were brought together. He was meant to be a father and it would be a damn shame for him to not raise children. I bring children to the table and they need a present father. Poof!—instant family.

So, that means “no” we are not having a baby together. It is a shame to not mix our DNA, but that is the way it is. Sure, I would love to have a baby with Robby and he would love it, too. But let’s be honest. We both have too many problems that could endanger our child’s DNA or growth in the womb. Plus, we are too old! We love getting a good night’s sleep. I still thank God every morning when I get a full night’s sleep. It’s not a topic we worry about. We are happy with the way things are now.

And plus we already have two amazing children. We get to raise a daughter and we get to raise a son. They are healthy and super smart. Why would we ever risk fate and ask for more?

I need to open my mind

I did something yesterday that I never thought I would be able to do—I sent Veronica on a trip and I didn’t volunteer to tag along. If you have a disabled child, then you understand what an incredible milestone this is in my life as a mother.

Before Veronica was born, I was told that she wouldn’t live. After she was born, I was told she would never walk. After she walked, I quit thinking that doctors knew everything.

Back in January, Veronica’s Girl Scout leaders talked about taking the girls on a trip for two nights. I was hesitant. I didn’t want other people dressing my child—I didn’t want her to be a burden on someone else.

I told Veronica that she couldn’t go out of town with her troop unless she learned to dress herself and put on her leg braces and shoes on her own. At the time, it seemed almost impossible. But I had seen children who were a lot more disabled than Veronica who could dress themselves so I knew there had to be a way that she could figure it out.

After months of screaming and crying (from both of us) and trying different dressing tools, Veronica finally figured out how to dress herself completely. For those of you with “normal” children you will never fully understand this. For the first time in 11 years, I am not responsible for putting on Veronica’s shoes. This frees up about 10 minutes per day for me…that’s over an hour per week—or about 60 hours per year.

I used to have to put on her socks and then spend several minutes adjusting them so that they felt “right.” Then I had to put on her braces and adjust the straps until they felt “comfortable.” Then I had to squeeze her tennis shoes over the leg braces and tie them. Sometime the tennis shoes would trigger a pain in her toes and I would be forced to pull everything off and start over again until she felt "okay."

There were times when she would get so frustrated with her feet hurting that she would kick her legs in anger—those feet would hit me. Sometimes I got kicked in the face. Other times I would dodge the kicks and grab her legs and tell her to calm down. It was always a fight. It was never a sweet mother/daughter experience. It set the tone for our morning and I couldn't wait for the bus to pull up outside and take her to school. 

For those of you who don’t have a disabled child, this sounds like madness. It sounds like I am raising a pampered princess. It sounds like she demanded that I do what she told me to do.

Well, you’re right. As a parent of a disabled child, I do the typical thing and make excuses for my child. The excuses are true, but they don’t warrant being kicked in the face on a daily basis. It’s hard to stand your ground and force your disabled child to endure pain in order to become a more self-sufficient young adult. It seems logical, but the steps to get there are not.

It was so easy when Veronica was a baby and I could just stay at home with her all day and give her all of my attention. She was happy being a baby that just needed to eat, sleep, and play.

But now she’s a young lady who’s blossoming into a pre-teen. She’s worried about someone seeing the patch of hair she missed shaving on her legs so it should be obvious that she doesn’t want anyone to see her leg braces.

When we picked out her dress for the wedding she said, “Can you get me a long dress? I don’t want anyone to see my legs.” It broke my heart, but I knew this day would come. And I can’t blame her for the way she feels. I used to want to skip school to hide a zit. I can’t even imagine dealing with leg braces.

Veronica is such a beautiful young lady. I realized this past week that boys her age look past her disability and see her beauty. She has a crush on a boy in her class—he’s one of the popular boys of course. My first thought was, “he’s not gonna want anyone to know he likes her because she is disabled.”

I was wrong. I went to a party for her class and I saw this boy. I saw the way he looked at her. I knew he was smitten. He went out of his way to make Veronica laugh and notice him. I realized that I was the one with the problem.

Maybe things have changed since I was a kid.  Maybe people are more accepting? I hope so.

I guess I have spent the past few years bracing myself for the let downs. I kept waiting for people to treat Veronica badly. I kept waiting for her to come home crying because someone made fun of her at school. None of those things have happened. I don’t know why.

All I know is that is that I seem to be the only person who is bothered by Veronica’s disability. I keep thinking that I am just being realistic, but now I am beginning to wonder. Perhaps I’m the one holding her back. Perhaps I’m the one who needs to just accept it and move on.

It's good to finally be me

Robby and I decided to write our own vows for the wedding—which is quickly approaching. I finally sat down and wrote mine today.

I started writing the vows a few weeks ago, and I was surprised that I had such a hard time writing them. I mean, I’m a writer. I thought I would just sit down and the words would just pour out of me. But everything I wrote sounded forced or cliché. I felt like I was writing a greeting card, not my vows. I have to make a confession--I Googled "wedding vow samples" for inspiration one night, but I was too ashamed to read the results.

But today the words just seemed to slide right off of my pen and onto the paper. I didn’t need to re-write or scratch out words—everything that I wanted to say just came out.

One of the best things about being in a healthy relationship is the fact that you get to be yourself. I have found that the more I act like myself, then the more Robby seems to love me. Perhaps it is because the more I act like myself, the more I seem to love myself.

I always thought that loving someone else and sharing my life with him would be the hard part. But I’ve realized that loving myself is the hard part. I don’t want to change Robby—I love him just the way he is. But I find myself trying to change little parts of me in an effort to make me seem more lovable. You know, like trying to pretend I’m always happy or that I don’t make mistakes or that my house is always clean.

I also used to think that the secret to a good marriage was changing myself in order to get along with my spouse better—you know that old saying, “you have to give a little to get a little.”  Well, that’s a bunch of crap, because I gave a lot and I got very little in return.

It’s not about compromise—it’s about love. And if you don’t love yourself and accept yourself for you who are, then you have nothing left of value to compromise because you have already compromised on everything that should be important to you—you have compromised your happiness and your personality.  You bring nothing to the table.

Well, this time around, I realize I bring a lot to the table. I am happy with myself. I love myself for who I am. I don’t need to worry about how I phrase my marriage vows—I just need to be true to myself, because Robby is in love with me—the real me. Not the fake me that used to pretend to be happy and pretend to be this perfect wife who kept a perfect home and had perfect children. He’s in love with the person who says what she believes and who loves him just as much as he loves her. He’s in love with the real me and he’s okay with that. He loves me despite my many flaws, and I am more than okay with that.

It's about time Mr. President

Something really extraordinary happened today. PresidentObama announced his support for gay marriage in our country. I knew he would eventually do this, but I just figured he would play it safe and wait until he was re-elected.

I’ve written about my politics before, but I will restate it again. I am registered Independent and I have registered as Independent since I first registered to vote. I despise the bi-partisan system we have set up in this country and I really thought we would have a strong 3^rd party system by now. I thought people would get fed up with Democrats and Republicans fighting instead of fixing. But I was wrong.

I thought McCain would form a strong Independent party capable of raising large sums of money after he lost to Bush, but I was wrong. He stayed Republican and he lost.

I thought this whole Tea Party thing would shake things up. But they just got off track and supported the wrong people.

Then there was this whole Occupy Wall Street movement…no offense but it kind of petered out and lost steam. I thought we were angry about this economy? I guess we’re not that angry after all.

So, when I began looking at the 2012 election, I decided to set my sights on the one thing that I wanted to see accomplished in the next 4 years. That one thing has been to see gay marriage legalized. Since Republicans will never go for it, then I had to turn my attention to Obama.

I’ll be honest, I didn’t vote for him last time. I wasn’t sure I trusted him. I was worried about the economy and I was afraid he wouldn’t be able to do enough to keep us from crumbling.

I really hadn’t made up my mind until I went into the voting booth. I had like McCain ever since I read a book in college written by a man who was a POW in Vietnam for 7 years. His story was incredible. He wrote about McCain and what he did for the men in the camp.

McCain was the son of a high-ranking admiral. The Viet Cong wanted to trade McCain for some of their guys, but McCain refused the trade. He went out of his way to make the Viet Cong torture him because he knew they couldn’t kill him—he was too important. I was stunned by that story.

Unfortunately he later came home and left his wife who had stayed behind and supported him and his children. She was disfigured from an auto accident she suffered while he was imprisoned. He left her for a much younger woman and never really paid much attention to his children.

This dichotomy of personalities really bothered me when I thought about voting for him. He was a hero who turned out to do one of the worst things a man can do—leave his wife and children. But ultimately, I felt that the economy would be in better hands with him, so he got my vote. But in the end, I was very okay with Obama winning. I got chills on election night when he walked on stage and gave his speech—I was glad my children were able to remember the election of the first black president. It was an exciting time to be an American.

For the past 4 years, I’ve just been sitting back watching Obama. I don’t feel like he’s done anything amazing but I know he hasn’t done anything disastrous. Our country has evolved pretty much the way I thought it would.

But I decided about a year ago, that I would definitely vote for Obama this time around. I feel like these next 4 years are going to be game changers for this country. I know he is the only person who will help this country move toward legal gay marriage and I also think he was some big plans in his back pocket that he has been holding onto since he got elected. I’m excited to see what he does for this country.

I have raised my children to be open-minded and not judgmental.  They know several gay couples and they love them dearly. They don’t think that there is something wrong with these people—they see them for who they are. They are people in love just like everyone else. They are no less than anyone else and they should have the same rights.

Veronica came home from school several months ago and told me about a lesson they had at school during black history month where they learned about how it used to be illegal for blacks to marry whites. She couldn’t believe that was true. “Why did that happen, Mommy?” she asked. “Sophia’s mom is white and her dad is black and they love each other. How is that wrong?”

I told her that it wasn’t wrong—it was just people who didn’t know any better.”

She said, “Kind of like how some people say it’s wrong to be gay and it’s not legal to get married if you’re gay?”

“Yep,” I said. “It’s exactly like that. Hopefully one day someone will change that.”

She looked at me and said, “I think Barack Obama will change that. He should know what it feels like to be discriminated against. And did you know that his mom was white and his dad was black?”

I just smiled and say, “Yes, I did know that.”

“I wish they would change the laws so that Aunt Mary could move to Georgia and be closer to us, but she can’t after she gets married,” she said. “I just don’t understand why people have to hate. What if they said that people who wear leg braces couldn’t’ get married then I would never get to marry someone and have children.”

And I thought to myself, “There probably are people who feel like you shouldn’t get married and have kids because you are disabled.”

But I told her, “Veronica, all we can do is wait for people to come around and change their minds. I think it will happen one day. I hope it happens soon. We are too smart to not realize how much this division hurts our country.”

You don’t have to agree with me. I understand. Beliefs and faith are hard to change. You can’t just believe that being gay is sinful your whole life and turn it off like a switch—I get that. I used to believe a lot of stuff about life until I hit rock bottom and realized that I was a judgmental fool who was no better than anybody else.

So, for those of you who are against our president right now for what he said today, I have a prayer for you. I pray that something happens to you to make you change your mind about gay marriage. I hope you see a marriage like my last one and realize that heterosexuals are already doing a great job at giving marriage a bad name. I hope you meet a child somewhere that you are awed by and find out he was raised by gay parents. I hope your child has the most amazing year at school and you find out her teacher is gay and you feel bad knowing he can never adopt children because your state won’t allow it.  I pray you quit being so judgmental and take time to answer the question, “what is it about gay marriage that really bothers you?” And if you claim your religion, then I pray for you to find a different one.