We had been married for almost five years. They were both beautiful and brutal years. Our marriage was being tested. He was being tested. We were being tested.
I didn’t know how I felt about having children. We had a lot of problems and I didn’t know if bringing a baby into the situation would be a blessing or a curse. I knew that he wanted kids. He wanted them now. He wanted them the minute we got married. I pushed back. I needed time. I quoted statistics “Most marriages end in divorce and many more end before the five year mark.” I wanted to wait.
He agreed. Reluctantly probably, but he agreed.
July 13, 2007
We were in a bad place. It had been five months since our first failed attempt at IVF. I couldn’t understand why we couldn’t have a baby. I was in a perpetual state of just existing. I felt alone in my marriage. No one could understand the pain I felt knowing that it didn’t work. I carried the burden of feeling like I was somehow incomplete.
It was my anniversary. I woke up wondering how long before we would be pulling the plug on this farce of a marriage. We were like roommates. Sleeping in the same house in the same bed and not touching. No hugging. No hand holding. No intimacy. I felt more alone than I ever had being single. I was living with a complete stranger.
Pleasantries were exchanged. We were both off today. It was our custom to take off work every time our anniversary fell on a work day. I got up and headed to the shower. I had to go. I got dressed and said good-bye.
There was no mention of anything special occurring on this day. I had made no plans. I just wondered when we were going to end it. Was today the day? I drove to take my mom to the dentist. She was getting her four wisdom teeth pulled and couldn’t drive home. No problem. I’m the oldest. I was already off.
After the dental procedure, I got my mom home and left for home. Not quite sure why I was headed home. It was my anniversary and I felt unloved. This void between us was like a mountain that couldn’t be crossed. I decided to call him from the car. “Hello” he answered. “Hi, are we doing anything special tonight? It’s our anniversary. Trying to figure out my day” I said. “I didn’t think you wanted to do anything. You just got up and left” he said. “I took my mom to the dentist. She got her four wisdom teeth extracted” I responded. “Oh, okay. Yeah, we can go to dinner. I’ll make reservations” he said.
Dinner sucked. The restaurant was in a beautiful location, but the meal was uneventful and not very tasty. We laughed and said that it was the worst meal we’d ever had, but tried to make the best of it. There were glimpses of hope in our strained conversations, hearty laughs, but mainly there was the distinct presence of pain. Too much pain.
To be continued