Hellobee

Quick Recap: I found out I was pregnant and my husband was moving out on the same day. Due to complications in Texas law, I consulted with a lawyer who said the only way to receive a divorce was with a separation agreement. He advised me to tell my husband that I was expecting. I told him, and he became overwhelmed and left. He had been unresponsive the rest of the night.

After my restless night following my big pregnancy announcement, I checked my phone to see if my spouse had responded to any messages overnight. Nope. I began to get nervous as the minutes ticked by, as he was expected to come and take the kids out for the day. I decided to do the unthinkable: call his mother.

You see, I’ve never been very popular with my husband’s friends. In fact, most of them strongly dislike if not hate me for “taking him away.” So I really wanted someone in his corner, giving him solid advice, who also had the best interest for our two children in mind. I cried through almost the entire conversation. I’ll just say that my mother in law is probably the sweetest, kindest woman to walk the earth. She truly is just a nurturing soul. She said he had told her he moved out. So I asked her if he mentioned I was pregnant. “Oh, honey no. No, he didn’t tell me that.”

It was a very good talk, and I felt confident when we hung up that she would give him good advice. He eventually showed up some time after I was expecting him. “How was your night?” I asked, desperate to figure out how he felt about the pregnancy. “Oh, it was fine. The house is really nice, and the guys are great.”

This was only day two since he came home from work with the plans to move out. I was still pretty raw, and to see him blithely ignore the pregnancy hurt. A lot. When he left with the kids I cried for a good long while.

When he brought them home we spent some more time talking things over, which was a good productive conversation. I mentioned that I talked to a friend of mine who was a child therapist, and that he said we shouldn’t sugar coat this or pretend he is going on a trip. We needed to tell them what’s going on. And that was without a doubt the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

My two year old didn’t even pay attention, but my four year old asked questions. She did really well until she asked if he would still be going on the cruise with us (we booked a Disney cruise over a year in advance, and she has talked about it non-stop ever since). When he said no, she broke down sobbing. I carried my crying child up to my parents’ home to spend the night so we wouldn’t have to watch him pack. She spent an hour hysterically crying, moaning, “daddy, daddy, daddy!” My sister came over and distracted her with Nerdy Nummies on YouTube and plans to go get ingredients at the grocery store so we could bake My Little Pony rainbow cupcakes. God bless you, Aunt L and Nerdy Nummies.

Over dinner she did well, until her soft little voice whispered, “But who’s going to be my daddy now?” before she started crying again. I reassured her that daddy would always be her daddy, and that he loved her very very much. And he would always love her and come see her and spend time with her. Then I did a hard thing for me, but the best thing for her. I called him (strategically around the corner so he could hear her crying) and asked him to come make these cupcakes with us at my parents’ house. And he did.

It was so bizarre an experience, playing the happy family while feeling anything but. However it did the trick, and she settled down and hugged him goodbye before bath time. By that point my younger daughter was feeling all the tension, and just kept crying and asking me to hold her. And she hasn’t stopped since. I carry her everywhere, almost all the time. I know she is just needing this reassuring connection. I want her to know that no matter what, I will always be here to give it to her.

On Sunday, we went to church. I was a wreck. I could barely keep it together. I’m currently attending a bible study class that’s focusing on parenting, and I barely made it through without crying. At the end of the class they asked for prayer requests. One woman revealed her pregnancy, and asked for prayers for a healthy baby. I jumped on that and said, “I’ll ditto that one, I’m also pregnant.” Congratulations all around. “And my husband is moving out today and I’m not sure how I’m going to get through this.”

I burst into tears. My sister and her fiancé attend the same class, and while I felt guilty for totally trumping this very nice woman’s happy news with my sob story, it was really nice to have everyone come around and pray. I know many folks aren’t religious, but just having that kind of support is amazing. And amazingly comforting. After class was the worship service, and I typically sit at the tables in the lobby drinking coffee, occasionally with my husband. I never knew before that, “How are you?” could be the worst question I’ve ever heard. Every time someone stopped by I just burst into tears. And I told them. I was honest, and I think in this case, it helped me so much. There’s a lot of negative energy that comes from shutting off emotions, and I was never good at just saying, “I’m fine.” It was interesting to see who really gave comfort, and whose eyes got wide and afraid and searched around to find where my sister had run off to so she could comfort the weeping woman!

I made it through the morning and came home to an emptier house. My husband stayed around for a while to play with the girls, but then he mentioned spending the night. Um, no. You do not get to move out and try to glean perks like spending the night here! I wasn’t angry, but I told him firmly that no, he needed to go at 4:30 so he did… which was just in time for my first meal delivery and a new shoulder to cry on.