Yeah, I’m angry.

Disclaimer: This post is petty and stupid. But the alternative is starting a fight with a man who will only get defensive and proceed to call me names and threaten me. So, this is an attempt at a different approach to the stinging feelings of disappointment.

You suck. You suck, you suck, you suck, you suck, you suck. I’m really not sure why I keep expecting you to be a better man, but I do. And I am continually disappointed by your absentee parenting. It really does bother me that you choose your $29 whore (I would have said two bit, but since the necklace you bought her off of Groupon was $29, I figured that to be more appropriate) over your children. I’m so glad that you can be there for her when she’s apparently “crying for no reason” while your daughters receive less than stellar care from a woman who has had no sleep due to a teething 5-month old baby. Let’s just forget for a minute that this same woman (the sleep deprived one) is also suffering from post-partum depression, because you know, she really needs to just suck it up.

So, while you might be their father, you are not a parent. You say you love these girls more than anything, but when push comes to shove, you end up doing what is best for you.

Chasing fantasies.

I can only hold so much back, can only suppress so much bitterness and vitriole until I am consumed by it and frankly, I don’t want to own these thoughts anymore.

I was told to be strong, to show that I can take care of myself, that I don’t need anyone else. In the face of all that has hit me, what have I been but strong? Who took care of me while I was pregnant and who has taken care of me since my child was born, but me? What have I shown my daughters but to perservere and that there are things in life worth fighting for? I am not setting an example for my daughters that it is okay to sleep or otherwise be involved with a married man. I am not showing them that I can’t stand being alone so much that I will jump into bed with a liar and a cheater.

Yes, he cheated on me. He is also my husband and I took those vows seriously, even if he did not. I did not lightly pledge my life to someone assuming that “for better or worse” contained a “except if you just don’t want to” caveat. He is the father of my children, which, if it means anything at all, means that he and I will always be tied together, will always be in the other’s life. And above all else, he and I loved each other. Love is many things, not all of which are good, but it doesn’t just disappear over night, it doesn’t go away because it’s hard or too much work, and it doesn’t bow to cowardice.

I owned his betrayal. I was ashamed and humiliated. I made excuses, I rationalized and justified his behavior. I was the one who stood up and said that it was all okay. When disaster hit, I sacrified everything to prove that it wasn’t the end, that there was a way forward. I have spent so much time trying to understand why I would do all these things and some of the answers I came up with weren’t pretty (and even worse, I’m sure these thoughts were shared by others). Was I, am I really just that desperate? Did I lose all self-esteem when faced with rejection? Could I really not bare to be alone?

I prayed for answers, I prayed that I would find what to do next. The hardest part wasn’t waiting, it is in accepting the truth that I’ve been shown.

So what have I learned, if anything?

I want to tell you that you hit the nail on the head when you told me you were a coward. That was the most truthful thing you have said (to me or anyone) in an immeasurable amount of time.

There is no sense in what has happened. That is the only clear spot. The time I spent analyzing only produced elaborate stories. I really don’t think it’s that complicated, don’t believe it’s as confusing as it has seemed. I don’t know the whole story and I never will, I can’t tell you why my husband cheated or explain anything he has done, but I can say that he did a lot of things just because he could. I am not a crazy, desperate woman, so I will stop making excuses.

If anything makes sense to me, it is only this. He loved me more than anything and while he can pander all he wants and tell me that he will always care about me, I know he loves me still. And while I have agonized over why he would choose her, I know that he did so because it was easy. This is what hurts the most, this is why I have held on for so long, the only reason he left me is because he is a coward. A lazy, miserable, lying, cheating coward.

I stand by everything that I have done, I have nothing to be ashamed about, and I know what I have to do next. I will admit that my marriage is over and I will work on letting go not because I don’t love my husband or because I don’t want to be with him, but because it really does take two to fight.

A little (spiritual) help.

Dear God,

Where has my marriage gone? For the last year, I have prayed that you would restore it, but it seems clear that is not Your will. But why did You bring this man into my life?

I need Your guidance, I long for Your support. I keep looking for answers and keep searching in all the wrong places. I am frightened and heartbroken.

What is Your plan for me? Where do I go now? When I asked You for Lucie, you blessed me, though in a different way than I had planned. I thank You for all that I have received. I am grateful for my supportive family and my beautiful daughters. You provide for me, give me a roof, good food, and clean clothes. And in so many, many other ways You have blessed me, You have given me more than others.

Help me, now. I beg You. Erase all fears and doubts from my mind, give me peace and conviction. I need Your direction.

I pray that You end their relationship. It hurts me deeply, but even as I say that, help me to put it out of my mind. I pray that You give him a new job far away and that You open her eyes and give her the strength to leave him.

I pray that You help him to be a good father. Even more, help me to be the mother that my girls need.

Guide me forward, treat me with patience and kindness when I stumble or attempt to run backwards.

Most of all, give me a man that will love me and respect me. I crave love and affection and long to find a partner to share my love.

You have blessed me with an overabundance of love and compassion. Let me share my gift and put it to good use, one that would glorify Your name.

In Your name I pray,

Amen.

Oh but the morning still comes.

In my post, “Damaged”, I wrote about what happened after my sweet Lucie was born. My husband left me. And it has been a tortuous last few months trying to figure out the truth.

Yesterday, I finally discovered.

He left me and went back to her. The woman he had an affair with, the woman he lived with during my pregnancy, the woman who was worth destroying my family. I have been asking him since he left me if he was talking to her, if he was seeing somebody and repeatedly and emphatically, he told me no.

A couple of days ago, I ran into her at the grocery store (a seemingly innocuous place) and it shook me. My heart stopped and dropped into my stomach. And I wondered why I would have to see her, why it would kill me when that was behind me. That same day, I think, he left his computer at my apartment. Of course I went through it, of course I checked his emails. I would have killed to get an insight into his life, his thoughts, I just didn’t realize I was killing myself.

I had three very long conversations with him yesterday, and still I didn’t get the truth from him. I called her and my body shook as I listened to her speak, and I told her she didn’t blame me. She told me that her husband had cheated on her, that she understood my pain, that what she did was evil. But of course she told me to let go of him, to not worry about him anymore.

I drank a lot last night and somewhere around midnight, propped up on liquid courage, I finally saw all that he had hidden from me. And my body failed me. Though he rushed over, he still could not offer me a shred of support, no modicum of empathy or compassion. He left after four and I tossed and turned until Georgia woke up.

To see the tears in my daughter’s eyes as she told us this morning that she wanted us to love each other, that she didn’t want us to get divorced was unbearable.

There is not enough reason in the world to help me understand why this man had to come into my life for the past seven years only to have it end like this. The way that he has treated me, with no respect and no concern, burns me and I am consumed by the bitter sting of rejection. We were really happy once and we had a wonderful family, but he makes me hate every second I spent with him, makes me regret that I ever met him.

Why couldn’t I have been strong enough to cut him off when he told me he slept with someone else? Why was I so stupid, why have I clinged desperately to him, why have I fought so hard for a marriage that I didn’t have?

I would rather that he were dead than to face the fact that I wasn’t good enough for him. I would rather him be unhappy with me than be with anyone else.

I didn’t want to wake up this morning, I didn’t want to see the light of day. I wanted everything to be over last night, he would have hospitalized me too, but I couldn’t give him the satisfaction of taking the last two beautiful things in my life. I am 26 years old and I have died a thousand deaths, each more painful than the last.

I love Lucie.

Lucie Adele Sielski

December 8, 2011 5:18 PM

6 pounds, 4 ounces, 19 inches

Starting at 35 weeks, I had biweekly ultrasounds (biophysical profiles) to make sure that the baby was doing well. December 1st, I had said ultrasound and (I can’t remember why exactly, but) the tech had to consult my doc and I remember thinking that I wouldn’t mind if she came back saying that the doc wanted to do the c-section early. Needless to say, he didn’t, but I was still pleased to find out that the baby was measuring about 6.5 pounds (I was worried because she had been measuring so small). On the night of December 2nd, I started cramping and contracting! However, that only lasted an hour so the next day, I was still able to celebrate a sweet little boy’s first birthday. Monday (December 5th), was supposed to be my last ultrasound but my fluid was very low and baby wasn’t moving much, so they scheduled me another ultrasound for Wednesday (December 7th). I was nervous going in for the ultrasound on Wednesday but all went well! That night, I splurged on a celebratory dinner at Flemings (and dessert from Dairy Queen). On the morning of December 8th, I got Gigi ready for school like every other day. We stopped for coffee (& chocolate milk) and dropped Teddy (our neurotic Bichon/Poodle mix) off at my dad’s. Then I was on my way to breakfast (my last chance for food that day – a chocolate chip waffle with nutella) with my dear friend and off to MOPS. I made it home around noon and rested until it was time to head off to the hospital.

I checked in around 2:30 and the next couple hours went by so quickly.  Before I knew it, I was walking in to the operating room and being prepped for surgery. 18 short minutes later, my little girl was born.

I asked to keep my arms free and I was so happy when they placed her on my shoulders/chest, close to my face. I enjoyed those sweet moments until they took her to the nursery while they finished my surgery. I spent the next couple hours in recovery and was in my room shortly after 7 pm. Family came to visit us that night and it was really wonderful.

So, now I am a mother of 2 beautiful girls. I really am blessed. <3

Damaged.

There aren’t words.  To describe what has transpired in accuracy is, quite possibly, impossible.  So I’ll start with what I know.

Around the beginning of November, my husband told me that he wanted us to be together, he wanted our marriage to work, believed that it could.  He said all the right things, did all the right things and made me believe that it was safe to trust him, that it was safe to let him take care of me and our new baby.

I was really apprehensive up to that time, wondering how it was all supposed to work out when she was born.  But I was honest with him, I told him that I did want him to be there when she was born, that I wanted him to be a part of it, but that I wouldn’t be able to separate my feelings.  I told him that I loved him and having him around would confuse me and hurt me.  I told him that post-partum depression was a big possibility given everything that had happened.  The absolute last thing that I wanted was for him to come in and help me when she was born, have me completely dependent, emotionally and physically, on him and then for him to turn around and leave.

And that is exactly what has happened.

I have been having a very difficult time since Lucie was born.  And it seems like the minute it got real, the minute that I was able to recognize that it was more than the “baby blues”, that I truly needed some help, he left me stranded.  The worst part of it is that it shows not only does ne not care about me, but doesn’t care about the well-being of our children.  He literally left me at 3:30 in the morning in near hysterics, after I was barely able to pull myself off the floor.

There is something wrong with him.  He knows that he has done severe damage in the past year, knows that he has hurt me repeatedly, is able to admit that it is wrong, and yet, simply does not care.

I cannot even begin to reconcile the severity and depth of betrayal.

I should be in baby heaven, revelling in these sweet days that will all too quickly be lost.  I should not have trusted him, should not have been so stupid.  I don’t know anything about losing a loved one to death, but of what I have experienced, I almost feel like this is worse.  My husband, who was such a good man and loved me more than anything, is gone, but he still stands before me.  Though he is close enough to touch, I cannot have him.  It is torture.  It is pain and agony amplified beyond anything I have ever known.  I spent the last year fighting for him, for love, for marriage, and all I wanted was someone to fight back.

All that is real.

First off, my sweet baby was born Thursday, December 8th at 5:18 pm.  6 pounds, 4 ounces, 19 inches long.  Such a tiny, tiny blessing.

I was doing really well right up to her birth, things were falling into place, and I was feeling confident.  Around the beginning of November, the relationship between my husband and I changed — he ended his other relationship and convinced me that he wanted to really work on our marriage, to save it.  And things were good.  For a minute, he was the man I married, the man who would have done anything for me, he gave me the support I needed while in the hospital.

But then I got home and things changed.  I’ve had a really hard time since she was born.  Recovering from my surgery was harder than I thought it would be, there was more pain and discomfort than I was prepared for.  My emotions have been all over the place, I’m bordering on the edge of indifference, and I have barely managed to leave the house in the last three weeks.

I thought I was managing it, that maybe it was just tough temporarily and I was getting through it.  But now, I’m in trouble.  My father left to spend the holidays with his new family, my mother and sister both think I’m selfish, albeit for different reasons, my husband suddenly isn’t sure, and I’m left feeling abandoned, like I’m a giant fool, and wondering what exactly I’ve done.

Why is it too much to expect a little understanding for what I’ve just gone through?  Why am I left feeling like I need to defend myself, like I need to explain why I’m involved in the stupid shit that my parents pull, like I have to pick sides?  Why must there always be something wrong?  And why, for the love of all that is holy, am I a complete jackass the minute that someone doesn’t get what they expect from me?

I just wanted a break from all the crap, just wanted things to go well, to not struggle with something.  I guess it was too much to ask for.

Emotional inconsistency.

My parents are divorced.  I guess it was finalized today, though it’s been coming for a while.  It’s hard.  There is real pain and loss here and I haven’t wanted to deal with any of it.  For anyone who is interested, divorce doesn’t just affect the two marital partners.  Divorce is like a hurricane, threatening to destroy everyone in its path.

I feel my mom’s pain, more real than if it were my own.  My dad was dishonest (to say the least) and he didn’t just hurt her.  They both hurt me, though.  Whatever the story is, whose ever fault it is, I got caught in the middle, I was used, and I suffered.

I don’t know how to make sense of it all and I don’t think I can.  It has been one hell of a year for me and it’s all I could do just to keep getting up off the ground.  Times like these, though, I really wish I wasn’t alone.  I don’t need anything profound, no deep declarations of love and admiration, no outrageous gifts, just someone to hold me when I cry, or laugh, or yell, or breathe.  I don’t know how many times I yelled at you for those damn socks being all over the floor, but what I wouldn’t give to look down right now and see them.

Lately, it feels like all the days are long and it might just have something to do with being eight months pregnant, I mean, emotionally speaking, I’m slightly less stable than a 14-year old.  But I also feel these dreams and desires stirring inside me, I’m so confused that I have no idea what they are, but I can tell they are strong.  Emotions are a gift and a curse; you can’t feel excited without the risk of disappointment and you can’t know love without feeling loss.

No greater time for change than the present.

Well, it’s here.  I am moving this week.  I get the keys on Thursday and the movers will be here on Friday.  The next couple of days will be spent filling boxes and next week will be spent unpacking them.  I’m actually very excited about this, even if it does mean some hard work and stress because I will get to nest!  And honestly, who doesn’t love nesting more than a 35-week preggo mama?  I’ll have to keep reminding myself to slow down though, as I’m sure I will want to do everything and then well, I’m sure the baby will get all excited and want to come to the party too.  But she needs to wait another month (31 days from today, yikes!) and so I will have to cool it.

As much as packing really blows (and I would know, this will be my 7th move in 5 years), it’s a great opportunity to reevaluate the “stuff” that has accumulated.  Generally, there are at least one or two items that have outlived their usefulness and will go the way of Goodwill (being the end of the year, it’s a nice time to donate).  I am very utilitarian — if it serves no purpose then I generally don’t want it and I also tend to get really swept up in the “spring cleaning spirit”, so I have learned the hard lesson of being really careful with what you part with.  Nothing like selling every major item of furniture only to turn around and have to buy all new stuff only 3 months later (long story)!

In the next couple of weeks I hope to get everything situated in my new apartment, finish some projects for my sweet baby, and decorate for the holidays — who wants to come over and play house with me?!

The real question is, do I get a pedicure before or after I move?

The back burner.

I sometimes wonder if life is really this difficult or if it’s just the way I look at things.  For instance, is my life a giant mess right now or do I really have things figured out?  If I’m honest, I think it’s all falling somewhere in between.

I’ve never been good with anxiety, I’m better at just getting things done.  When there is nothing I can do, I think.  I really need to work on that, I’m pretty much my own worst enemy.

At what point in life do we really have everything going according to plan?  I’ve never even been a person to develop long-term plans (forget the one-year, five-year, or even ten-year, I can barely get my week mapped out) so why am I stressing in this moment?

I’m in a period of transition.  Emotions run high and it makes us very uncomfortable, so we feel like we need to be doing something, need to have things figured out.  I get irritated, grouchy, angry, sad, and lonely.  But, I need to learn to be a little more independent, to save myself.

I know that I am not destined to be alone, I know that I am meant to share my life and my incredible compassion.  Hell, I’m 26 years old, I’m not exactly an old maid.  I still have so much life ahead of me, why am I so worried about the next month when there is so much good waiting?

I remember the overwhelming joy I felt when Georgia was born and I know how happy I will be when my sweet (and stubborn) Lucie (yes, if that is my final choice, then that is how I will spell it) is born.  I can’t wait to see my girls interact, to watch them grow.  Raising children is the most incredible gift and I can’t help but be fulfilled when I think of what I have already watched and what I have yet to see.  I love my babies, who needs to worry about anything else?

That’s it, confusion and uncertainty be damned.  I will let it all ride and just enjoy the moments as they pass me by.  I am so blessed and will focus on nothing but that.

So what’s the difference between a regular panic attack and a pregnant one?  No Xanax and a hell of lot more hormones.  :D