I woke up to an empty(ish) house for the second morning today. My five-month-old son and two pups are here, all three sleeping peacefully while a light rain hits the roof.

Ahhhhhhhhh.

I exhale air from the base of my lungs that likely entered my body many months ago. The realization of its exit is both refreshing and torturing. Only now, in this stillness, can I feel how wound up my body has been.

I keep glancing outside to take in the scenery. An even thin layer of clouds covers the sky, filtering the harsh sunlight of the last few days. It provides a gentle grey backdrop contrasted with bright green grass, fresh from the rain. It’s an atmosphere my soul resonates with.

My favorite “chill” album plays in the background while I sip my bougie single-origin cup of Ethiopian coffee. The last time I played it on repeat like this was a few years ago when I escaped to Maine on a solo trip. I had needed a brief getaway from day-to-day life that had become nearly unmanageable.

The trip came a little over a year after our first son joined our home. Becoming a mom for the first time to a kid with seven years of life already under his belt wasn’t as glorious as Instagram made it look. My heart was fully swooned by him – yet that didn’t erase the trauma of his past or present circumstances – trauma that would soon bring unexplored traumas to the surface for my husband and me.

Disclaimer: This blog is not a dramatic cry for help for myself personally – I’m okay. This is written on behalf of all adoptive moms going through tough seasons. It certainly does not apply to every adopted child and adopted mom or every season. My only goal is to help other adoptive mothers in the thick of it not feel so alone, and moreso, to help their friends get one step closer to caring for them. I have many friends who have adopted and need support from those closest to them, and we don’t know how to tell you that. This blog is my attempt to raise their voices (not just mine). This is OUR cry for help.

We know the reasons they hate us.

They were abandoned. They were abused. They were lied to. They weren’t fed. They weren’t loved.

They were thrown away like a piece of trash. Over and over again.

They have EVERY. FRICKIN. REASON to hate us – to not trust us.

Life. Can. Suck.

Sure, it can be great too. But there’s no denying its suckiness at times.

Last year, Brandon and I started planning the kid-free, work-free trip of our dreams to Hawaii for our 5th anniversary and my 30th. We were already exhausted with the business and the whole becoming-parents-overnight thing.

Real talk: while you wouldn’t have seen it on Instagram, I truly felt like I was hanging on by a thread most days.

Today marks Part 3 of our series centered on pornography and how it affects women, particularly in the church (go here for Part 1, here for Part 2). I want to make it clear that my dear husband is fighting the good fight and is finding victory in this area. I also want to make it clear that I’m not writing anything that has not been approved, and even encouraged by him. We both agree there seems to be a lack of understanding and help for women that are affected by pornography and we hope that together we can begin talking about the issues of porn and lust in a way that isn’t often talked about. Our prayer is that it begins conversations that need to be had and offers help to women who feel like they are barely hanging on

I’ll never forget that horrific line I read in that popular, Christian marriage book that Brandon and I were told to read during our pre-marital counseling. It went something like this,

”The wife lacking in spontaneity may unknowingly be driving her husband into the arms of another woman.”

Ugh. What bull.

It has taken a long time to reverse the damage that one line made on my heart during those fragile months of engagement. I read that line over and over again, internalizing the idea that if I was not “enough” for my husband sexually then I would lead him to an affair.

Don’t get me wrong, that book had a lot of great points. And the author was trying to show wives the importance of loving their husbands physically, but the notion that a woman is ever responsible for her husband staying faithful to her is a lie from the pit of hell.

This blog was not an original part of the series I had in mind, but after hearing from so many women via private messages or emails, I decided we couldn’t have this series without making this one truth clear for a wife struggling with a husband’s lust issue. So let’s go on and throw it out there.

Sweet woman, YOU are not the problem.

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Today marks Part 2 of our series centered on pornography and how it affects women, particularly in the church (go here for Part 1). I want to make it clear that my dear husband is fighting the good fight and is finding victory in this area. I also want to make it clear that I’m not writing anything that has not been approved, and even encouraged by him. We both agree there seems to be a lack of understanding and help for women that are affected by pornography and we hope that together we can begin talking about the issues of porn and lust in a way that isn’t often talked about. Our prayer is that it begins conversations that need to be had and offers help to women who feel like they are barely hanging on.

I’ve been a part of three churches now in which a pastor has stepped down or been let go of due to unresolved lust issues. Still, it took me getting married to begin to actually explore the subject of lust from the male perspective. I found it was much harder to shake off the deep, unresolved fears residing within me in the confines of a marriage.

After we got married, Brandon and I began having conversations I hated but couldn’t help but continue. I’m thankful to have a husband that has not shied away from answering my questions.

But when I began to fully understand the threat of lust in the life of a man, I was devastated. And I had no idea what to do with it.

None of my friends talked about this subject. None of my church families growing up tackled the subject.

So I reacted by doing what was natural to me: I turned inward.

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