My Story

As for my story, there’s a part of it that people remember which makes them really sad and the part that I remember, because that’s who I know myself to be. I graduated with a M.A. in theology because I love philosophy and faith and have a passion to seek out the peoples of the world and love and serve them. I also have a degree in chemistry because I wanted my life to be grounded in something tangible and helpful to humanity. This is the part that I remember about myself and who I know myself to be on top of the fact that I am almost always successful at most of the things I need to fix, whether it is home repairs, running, then closing a restaurant, business paperwork and taxes. I’m a writer, a scholar, a teacher and humanitarian. This is who I know myself to be.

Most recently, however, there is the sad story of my life that seems to loom larger than all that I could have accomplished: the story of my husband who was abruptly taken out of our business one morning while we were opening the restaurant. ICE officials came and got him and not even two whole months later, he was deported. Sometime during those two months, I ran the restaurant. I got married to him in a prison. I hired a lawyer to save him from deportation, to no avail. I then began constructing a path to closing down the business. I found a job just to make some quick income. I organized a trip to his country and by June I saw my husband at the airport, for the first time since our quick jail-house ceremony. We had a real wedding there, full of family rivalry and fun and our hearts healed a little. We knew I might become pregnant, while there but decided it wasn’t too much to budget for—of course we were calculating singleton figures. I stayed for 2-3 months, then returned because I knew I was pregnant and after the hell I had to pay for being white in the heart of Africa, I wasn’t about to give birth there. I came back to US and began job hunting. My optimism changed when I got my first sonogram and there were twins. After a few pregnant interviews, I knew I was defeated and I began to research options in public assistance. I was happy about twins and my husband was also but the reality of the difficulty of it all hit me every day as I boarded the bus for a temp job I managed to land during my second trimester. I also began working on an emergency Visa application to get my husband here to help me for what I knew would be the challenge of a lifetime.

Forward, 8 months, after being admitted to the hospital numerous times for premature labor, I delivered the twins a month early, due to pre-eclampsia and HELLP syndrome. Sadly, all that and near death, wasn’t emergency enough to grant my husband a visa. So, I’ve carried on. I’ve been recovering. I’ve raised two babies, worked temp jobs, saved all my dimes for airfare and have been trying very hard to get the house packed-up, repaired and ready for rental. That’s where I am at today.

Somewhere in the midst of all this is the happier side of the fairytale. Somehow I will one day see my husband again and he will meet his twin girls for the first time. Some day I will have enough space in my mind to look back and appreciate the people who came alongside to help. But right now it is like a marathon, the focus is one goal.