We made an appointment with a Christian counselor and poured out our story.
"I specialize in marriage problems," he told us. "You two have emotional issues. I can refer you to someone who specializes in that."
But the "specialist" referred us to another specialist. And things just got worse. We couldn't even have a discussion without getting into an argument.
As I lay in bed one night after seeing our third counselor, I was overwhelmed by hopelessness. No one seemed able to help us—not even God. My prayers for marital restoration just seemed to go unanswered, and I was weary in my faith.
I didn't want divorce to be an option. But that left only one other choice. I wish he'd die, I thought. At least that would end this pain.
And then, six months into our marriage, I discovered I was pregnant. Now my emotions were even more in turmoil.
I was overjoyed because I thought God would never allow me to have more children. But devastated at the thought of bringing a baby into the turbulent mess our home had become.
"I don't want our child listening to us scream at each other," I told Art. "We have to fix things between us. I just don't know how."
"I heard about a pastor on the other side of town who does marital counseling," Art said.
"Get us an appointment right away," I urged.1