You know, the time I passed out at Walmart and the lessons learned thereof

Back when I was 8 months pregnant with Lily, I had super low blood pressure issues.  Every single time I was on my feet for more than five minutes I'd black out.  It was the epitome of torture for me.  I had to do my makeup as I sat on the floor.  I had to cook dinner in spurts.  I watched TV for a better part of the day because I had very little options as to what I could do while sitting down.

One day I had had enough.  And little stubborn me decided that a quick shopping trip wouldn't be so bad.  I got in my car, drove down 2nd East to Walmart and took my time.  I loved being able to get out of my apartment.  I took too long and I started losing my vision.  I pushed my shopping cart to the middle of the women's clothing department to hide while I crouched down until I could see again.  When I felt better, I kept walking.  I lost my sight again.  Over and over I went through this cycle because I was being stubborn and telling myself that I was "strong enough" to overcome it.  I didn't realize at the time that I was just being stupid. 

It got to the point when I was able to admit to myself that I needed to check out, and fast.  I took my cart to the cashier, tried to be patient as the guy ahead of me slowly signed his name on the signature pad, and just as he was leaving and I was able to put my items on the conveyor belt I said to the cashier, "Can you hold these for me?"  She looked at me as if I was insane, and that was the last thing I remember before I passed out. 

When I woke up a few Walmart employees were around me and a woman who I recognized from the next aisle came running over to me.  She informed me that she was a labor and delivery nurse at Madison Memorial and she was wondering if I was in labor.  "Nope, I'm 8 months pregnant.  I just passed out is all."  She squatted down next to me and started asking me a bunch of questions and propped my feet up on my shopping cart while another Walmart employee put a plastic covered pillow under my head.  Yep.  It was fabulous.  8 month pregnant me lying down in the check out aisle with my legs up in the air.  It's probably just how you imagine it.  I was sipping on the bottle of orange juice she pulled out of the nearby refrigerator when I said, "I'm feeling a lot better now.  I think I'm going to check out."  She gave me that "over my dead body" look and told me to call Ben.  I hadn't even thought of it. 

So I called him up, told him of my present circumstances, and even though he was working at the time he said he was on his way.  A coworker dropped him off at Walmart and Ben took me home.

What I didn't mention was that Ben was being paid hourly and we needed the money.  I also vividly remember him being covered in mud since he was working for Rexburg's water department and he was constantly fixing pipes in the ground. 

But none of that mattered.  I made a mistake and Ben was there to pull me out of it.  I've made a lot of mistakes since then, and Ben has been there to pull me out of them.  In turn, Ben has made his share of mistakes, and I've been there to pull him out of them.  The cycle goes on and on and on. 

I'm sure you've all heard that "Disney movies gave me unrealistic expectations about love."  For me, that's true.  I expected something else entirely when I got married, but little by little, I get to see more of why this whole marriage thing is so important for growth, especially when it's not perfect.  When I count my blessings now, I count the trials that sit there beside them making those blessings possible.  Ben and I have been through a thick, muddy path of trials, many of which aren't on this blog because who wants to read about all the mistakes someone has made?  Not me. 

Sometimes I sit back and wonder what it would be like to marry someone perfect.  The answer is this: it would be the epitome of torture.  Like, worse than when I was stuck on the couch.  I would be so embarrassed every time I made a mistake.  I would always be looking over my shoulder every time I repeat a bad habit.  I don't think I'd be very happy.  I'm just glad to have Ben who doesn't mind putting on weight with me and splurging money on something we probably shouldn't be spending it on.  So kudos to all y'all who don't have perfect spouses. I don't either, and I'm not one myself. And that in itself is a very beautiful thing.