The day started like every other day with a 7-week-old baby, a 20-month-old, a 4-year-old, and two almost 6-year-old’s. Early. This day though, I was determined to find some answers. It had been weeks since I felt like I had any idea what was going on in my husband’s head and I was getting lonely feeling like I was raising five babies by myself. Since law school ended, we had begun to see less and less of him. I was exhausted from fighting this feeling that something was not right. So this day, it was going to be different. It was going to be a good one, even if I had to force it. I was determined to get him to see us. These babies, me… we were worth it.
I spent the day making his favorite food. I sent him perfect pictures of our babies. I cleaned every inch of the house. Each hour I prayed that today would be the day he came home to spend time with us—to see how great we were and realize how much he had been missing while he was out making money. We didn’t want money; we wanted him.
He walked in a few hours late. The food was cold. The kids were tired. He was even more distant. I tried to kiss him; he rolled his head the other way. The night was anything but the one I had envisioned that morning. He didn’t eat one bite of the food. He kept looking out the window like he was watching for someone. The kids went upstairs for a minute and I decided to be brave. ‘Em, we need to talk. I went to this marriage therapist, and I really want us to go together—you know—to figure out what the heck is going on.’ He said, ‘Did he tell you that you are crazy, like I have been saying for a while now?’ I responded holding back my tears, ‘No, actually he listened to me, and made me realize that maybe there are some things going on in our marriage that we can make better.’
He looked at me with hate in his eyes and asked, ‘Oh yeah? Like what?’ I took a deep breath and again gulped down the pain that was trying to come out. I had learned in the last few months not to confront him about anything—especially nothing about his distance and lack of interest in the kids or me. I decided to be brave and just get it out. I said, ‘Well for starters…’ my face burned, ‘I feel like lately, when you don’t want to be intimate with me—or even let me kiss you—I feel like… like… I am scared that… well… either I am not doing it for you anymore … or… someone else is.’
He was calm. Not the response I had expected. He said nothing. He looked up again, ‘And what else?’ I took another deep breath. ‘The kids have started asking me if you live here anymore, and I am running out of excuses for you on why you are not here for them. Something feels wrong; I literally am shaking all the time. I just can’t beat this feeling that something isn’t right. I texted my family a few weeks ago and asked them to pray for us…’ And that is when all hell broke loose.
