I am so excited to share this post with all of you today. Yesterday I had the pleasure of connecting with a wonderful baseball wife who felt led to share her deepest thoughts and emotions with our baseball family. Courtney very bravely posted the piece below on a private group we have for baseball wives and girlfriends and the response she received was heartwarming. So many women, including myself, were incredibly moved by what she had to say.
Even though we are all at different points in our journey, the baseball community shares many of the same emotional, psychological and lastly, physical struggles. This very special life we lead is one of many blessings, but it also comes with many hardships that most will never see or understand. Many wives commented that they were in tears after reading Courtney’s post and I can say that I had a hard time reading it myself. I was overwhelmed with emotions that run deep despite my pregnancy hormones. I urge you to take a moment to read the beautifully written piece below; It will give many a little insight into our baseball lives. Without further ado…
“There’s no Cinderella’s in baseball. Who you are and what you are will show itself sooner or later.” The past week has been one of the toughest for me emotionally. Of course it doesn’t help that I have the hormones of a typhoon raging within, either. But if I were a betting lady I’d be willing to bet that these emotions would be here regardless of the growth of little one. If there is one thing I have come to respect about my husband, it’s that he has the determination of a mule. When you take something from him that he is passionate about, you better get strapped in and buckle down for the ride. Because he’s about to prove himself in ways you didn’t even know existed. Baseball is his first love. The feel of the ball between his fingers, the smell of the grass on the field, the feel of the dirt on the mound, the rush of a setup and the motion of the pitch. All of this is second nature to him. It’s in his blood. In his soul. He has worked harder than I ever contemplated working in his 26 years on this earth. He has sacrificed more sweat and tears than I can count. In 2010 he was drafted into affiliated ball. A dream come true. A dream that suddenly went from one of pure love to one of pure agony. Most people have no idea what a minor leaguer goes through. Believe me, I know there are people out there that literally give up their lives for another. I respect that completely. But there’s something to be said for a guy who puts his life on pause for a game he loves. He packs his stuff, drives off with his family behind, stays in hotels that you wouldn’t even think about stopping at, sleeps on busses for 10-18 hours while traveling to the next field, grinds day in and day out working his body to maximum potentials and fights to keep a job every day because there are others out there hunting for it. Then turns to the fans, smiles, waves and signs balls or cards with a smile on his face and a pep in his step; hiding the strain and tiredness that the 5th cup of coffee he just poured himself is trying to hide. His bank account gets the $7-850 deposit every two weeks and his bills slowly pile because there is no such thing as a paycheck in the offseason. All for a dream. A dream to get to where every ball player wants to be. Then one day you find yourself sitting on the couch, almost 6 years later, baseball-less. I always wondered what this day would feel like and I must say, it feels a lot like an unexpected breakup with a first love. After all, that’s basically what it is. The “my feelings have changed” emptiness of questions that you have at the moment you are no longer in a relationship take over. And like all of our first breakups, the first days are hard. Emotional. Aggravating. As each day passes, the numbness fades and things get better. That’s what the initial seconds of the “I’ve been released” moment feels like. Gut wrenching, sword in the stomach pain. That was almost 2 weeks ago. What I love about my husband is that he hasn’t crawled into a dark space and felt sorry for himself. He hasn’t even gotten so angry that he made irrationally destructive decisions. Nope. He takes it to the mound. He continues to work hard and train. We may be crazy, but we are Noah. I’m sure most people thought he was insane, literally, when he began constructing the ark. I mean who builds a boat for animals, when you’ve never even seen rain? I’ll tell you who. A man who heard His God speak. A man who listened. A man who prepared his field, no matter the cost. Last season, this same time, we were walking through a miscarriage. Now, we are anxiously waiting the birth of our precious Addelyn. No matter what comes, her tiny life will not be taken for granted because we know what it feels like to lose one. Now, a year later, we walk through a release. A death in some sense. We learned last year that the beauty of it is new life always comes next. We have no idea what tomorrow brings. We really don’t even know what the next minute brings. But the one thing we do know is that baseball is not over. And when he gets the opportunity he has worked so hard for, it will not be taken for granted. All that He requires of us is faith as tiny as a mustard seed. Even if what He has called you to do seems so incredibly out of reach, if you believe He can and will provide what you need to fulfill your calling, that He has given, He will give it. So just as the farmer prepared his field for rain, believing His God would bring it, we too prepare our field for the next step. We must always be ready for the opportunity to fulfill The Divine Calling to come. Because if we aren’t, it will never be as powerful as it was intended to be and we might even miss it. One day we will look back on this and see how all of those grungy nights on a bus or sleeping in a bed that most wouldn’t even sit on, the strain, the stress, the pay that seems like nothing and every second of the struggle, the preparation and the wait will all be worth it. Not because he made the show. No, because he obeyed the calling.
