Two years ago this weekend started my journey into the depths of hell I could never have imagined. I called him and he was on the other line with a "friend". There was something in his voice...I just knew it.
He was held over at work that night and I stayed up waiting for him. I was on the couch, half asleep when he walked in the door. At almost five months pregnant, I had a hard time being a night owl. That certainly didn't help our relationship, working completely opposite shifts.
I followed him into our bedroom when he asked me to call his partner for him about a call they'd been working. I took that brief moment to scan his call log and noticed the record of the call with the "friend" was missing.
After he got off the phone, I grilled him about the missing call. His answers ranged from "I don't know" to "maybe it got deleted" to "I was on the other line so maybe it doesn't show in caller Id."
We argued about it for hours before he finally admitted that he deleted the call because they had talked for awhile and he didn't want me to freak out if I saw that in his phone log.
Oh if only it had stopped there!!!
We were supposed to leave for vacation the next day. It didn't happen. Instead I got 48 hours of trickle truth that damn near killed me until I finally intercepted an emergency email from her while he was sleeping, went back and forth with her just long enough to confirm my suspicions and then woke him up with a swift kick to the junk.
I held his phone in my hand, security code already changed by me, and told him I had proof. I asked him how many times and am pretty sure my heart stopped when he said twice.
Oh my god no. No no no. This can't be happening. The rest is a blur. Except for the part where I told him to get out. And then the part where I nearly fell down the stairs as we wrestled for the phone. How in the hell did we get here??
And then came trying to live on Jupiter with no oxygen. I laid on the couch for a week and prayed for God to kill me, and my children, so we didn't have to live in this upside down world. I stared at pictures of our family and prayed for God to let me go back in time and do it all again, only differently this time. I lost my mind, and too much weight and almost lost the baby. And it was still weeks before I found out that wasn't the first betrayal.
That was another week spent on the couch. That was when I decided God must hate me. And that I surely hated Him.
I checked out of everything except caring for my daughter. I stayed up all night long, sleeping only a few hours in the morning and only when sheer exhaustion took over. I have no idea how that little baby boy inside me hung on, but by golly he did!
There's a lot that happened between that first Memorial Day and the one today. But I can tell you this...I survived. Some days we are even thriving around these parts.
This weekend, the hubs and I went away with the kiddos. Everyone got sick except for me! We had to cut the trip short and he spent the entire way home sick as a dog. Seems fitting on this day of all days, eh?
Today marks that two year mark for me. At the beginning, when I heard 2-5 years for recovering, I never thought we would LIVE that long, let alone still be married.
But here we are. And that might be the best part of year two. We are still here.
So, on to year three we (unbelievably) go.