The Pain

We lost our baby. We lost the chance for our happy ending. It is amazing how close you can become to something you’ve never even met or seen. I laid awake most nights thinking of the future of our child, what would we name the baby? What would the nursery look like? How this baby was going to inject new life into our marriage. A new beginning. A reason for us to smile.

Some days I wonder if you can ever fully recover from such a loss. All these years later, and I still feel a piece of me is gone. I feel that my family is not quite complete. Nighttime is the hardest, when I’m alone with my thoughts. All the nights I laid awake planning for our baby, I was so excited, scared, happy, and nervous. Then the baby is just gone. It is an intense loneliness that words can’t quite describe.

Time marches on and I did what I always do. I put on my game face. My brave face. So the world could not see the pain inside of me. The tears I was always fighting back.

But somehow, in the days following that loss, I felt like the Hussy won. That she stole such a big part of my life from me… And she wasn’t letting go of her choke-hold on my family. Or my happiness. Would I ever truly be happy again? Was that even a possibility again after all this pain, hurt and suffering. I thought this new beginning would put Mr. ‘Can’t Keep
His Dick in His Pants’ in the rear view mirror of my life, and emerging would be the strong relationship I knew we were capable of. But now what am I left with? No hope. No silver lining. No happy ending. No nothing.

If only this is where my story ended…



The Aftermath

I’d just lost a baby. And it had dropped me into a hell of despair so deep that it hurt just to breathe. My one lifeline, the one thing keeping me going after discovering my husband’s selfish affair, had vanished. All hope gone, in the blink of an eye.

Miscarriage is death. It brings with it all the agonizing grief that comes with losing a loved one. But miscarriage is also a taboo topic. It’s the very reason that we hide our pregnancies during those first dicey months, fretfully waiting for the danger to subside before making any announcements.

When bad news comes, Moms-to-be that lose a pregnancy tend to mourn in secret.

There are no funerals. No memorials. You don’t get sympathy cards or flowers from friends. Instead, routines go on, and you suck it up.

In fact, the only tradition our society does have regarding miscarriage is that you’re not supposed to talk about it. We expect grieving Mothers to buck up and pretend that the little life lost never existed in the first place.

So, here I am, with another heavy cross to bear and another secret to burden my soul. Could I have confided in my friends about all these horrible things that seem to keep happening to me? Sure. But honestly, for me, life is so short and my time with my girls being little is so brief, I just can’t bear to dampen any moment with sorrow. To wallow in the sadness, dwell on the negative and exist in the despair. I didn’t have it in me to tell and re-tell my story because frankly, that is exhausting. I tried to just charge on and be brave, for my girls.

Years later, I still think about that sad day. Would it have been easier to just exhale the truth. Would it have been easier to expose my husband for the cheater that he was? To let everyone know how the Hussy tormented my thoughts, and caused my family to come crashing down? If I could have let people say, “I’m so sorry.” If I hadn’t had to pretend that everything was ok, even as I was in the grips of soul-swallowing grief… would that have made things easier? I really just don’t know.

The one thing that I do know though… Is that the only thing worse than losing the things that meant the world to me is pretending that I lost nothing at all.

If only that is where my story ended…


The Miscarriage

Valentine’s Day! I’m pregnant. The best gift I could ever possibly imagine giving my husband. This was our chance at a new beginning. We were deliriously happy. This was my silver lining. My ‘everything happens for a reason’. THIS was the reason God put me through such hell… to eventually get to this outcome.

That state of bliss lasted about a week. Until the bleeding started. “Don’t panic, you’re fine,” said my Doctor. But I knew I was far from fine. The next month can only be described as the Roller Coaster from Hell. Continued bleeding that shook me to my core. Daily visits to my OB-GYN where I was getting no answers because frankly, he had none. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” he said. Oh joy!! How lucky am I?! Daily visits to the Hospital for blood tests that would continue to confirm my low-rising hormone levels. And scouring the internet trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

“Give it time,” my Doctor said. And time was what I gave it.
A month later, with lots of tears shed, it was determined I was in fact having a miscarriage. A very long and drawn out miscarriage. A fact I knew in my gut on that first day.

I came home from my OB-GYN, and confided only in my husband. I couldn’t bare to tell this story to another soul. Having to relive the horror was just too much for me at that point.

With the TV blaring in the background, I couldn’t help but think, “Why is all of this happening to me?” I know life has ebbs and flows and everyone faces challenges, but this seemed to be a shitload of downs. So much isolation. How much heartache was I supposed to endure? First, the worst betrayal a person can go through… My husband cheated on me with his mistress, the Hussy. An 8 month long affair. And now the death of a child. The loss of a pregnancy. A miscarriage.

I felt sad – we both were. Our great hopes for a fresh beginning had been dashed. I felt utterly hopeless. The idea of a new life coming into this world gave me a reason to fight for my marriage. Gave me motivation to get up each day and give it my all. Was I naïve enough to think that a baby would magically fix things? No, I was not. But the mere idea of new life was one hell of an incentive to give it 100%.

We were back to square one. But this time square one looked very, very bleak. Where do we go from here?

If this is only where my story ended…


The Choice

Fast forward many, many months… One year and one month to be exact. That is the time that had passed since that fateful Midnight Call. I had made the decision to stay in my marriage. Many, I’m sure, judge that choice. I would have judged that choice too, if I had been on the outside looking in. I know better now. Know never to judge without walking a mile in those shoes. Know never to judge another woman’s choice, whatever it may be, when they find themselves in the middle of a cheating scandal, with a husband who can’t keep his dick in his pants.

Our plan had always been to have three kids. Pre-affair we had two beautiful baby girls. I was gearing up for baby #3, when the Hussy so sluttily entered my life. I still desperately wanted a third child. And so, I fatefully decided on Christmas Day to tell my husband that I was ready to move forward… To truly put the past behind us… Start fresh… Grow stronger together… And try for the third child we knew would complete our family.
If only I had known the horrors to come, the pain, the heartbreak, the shock, the utter sadness… If only.
If only this is where my story ended…


The New Year

New Year’s Eve was quickly approaching. So what does a family in a life-altering crisis do? They invite friends over to celebrate the dawn of a new year, of course. Clearly this idea was as screwed up as my emotions because the night was a disaster from the get-go.

Our friends fast and furiously hit on the topic of infidelity. Yippee!!! Yay!!! Hooray! Fist Pump!! What a fabulous topic that I would just love to discuss. Mr. “My Penis Makes me Stupid” looked as if he actually swallowed a cow. Excellent. And they wouldn’t let up. About the foolish wives who were too dumb to see what was going on… To the husbands who clearly have no love for their wives if they cheat… To the poor, poor kids. How did I get through? Wine, of course. And lots of it. Too much in fact. An obnoxious amount, in fact. Long before midnight I ended up on my daughter’s step stool in my laundry room, my face planted in my hands. To say it was a bad night would be an understatement.

The entire next day, with the Hangover of the Century, I kept thinking, It’s not supposed to be this hard. Why is it so hard? Why does everything feel so upended? Why am I swimming upstream? Why am I trying to right something that was wronged by someone else? Why am I not simply walking away? Why am I putting myself through this misery? This constant tug-of-war that was going on inside me.

And the answer was always the same… My girls.

I trudged through the next few months. He bought me a ring (thanks Kobe Bryant!), arranged for our first family trip to Disney World, and we tried to finish furnishing our home that we had, oh by the way, just freakin’ built!!! I went through the motions… Wanting to be happy, wanting to trust him again, wanting life to go back to normal.

There were good days, and bad. And the bad days were very, very bad. “I can’t imagine how you could have lied to your family for the last 7 months? Taking time away from your children to extend your already excruciatingly long trips so you could live in your fantasy world. Affairs are made of fantasy. It’s not real. It’s not the real world.” Sometimes the frustration of it all would get to be too much, and my mind would go into the darkest of places. Sometimes I just needed answers, longing to make sense of it all. Answers I knew he could never give me.

Months went by. I never confided in anyone. I was just too humiliated. When your husband cheats on you, it’s a hard thing to talk about with family and friends. For me, at least. I was embarrassed, ashamed. So we carried on as a normal, happy family. He kept saying he wanted his affair to make us stronger, better, closer. I guess that’s what I wanted too… But deep down I wasn’t sure I could ever truly love him again.

If only this is where my story ended…


The Frustration

Do you know what bothers me? Here we are… the betrayed spouses, searching the internet together. We are the ones doing all the work. We are the ones trying to figure out how our seemingly perfect marriages now include stories of betrayal, lies and secrets. We are the ones Googling “what to do after an affair” to try to put the pieces back together. Here we sit checking our in-boxes or notifications hoping someone has written us a message of hope or words of advice. Needing that support.

It bothers me that sharing my experience will probably never prevent a spouse from cheating. In the end, my words may comfort another betrayed spouse but she won’t go looking for them until her Midnight Call arrives. Who looks for advice on how to prevent an affair when they are in love with their spouse and happy. Who goes looking for advice before they choose to have an affair? Maybe I shouldn’t worry or be bothered by the man out there who is playing with fire, befriending a female co-worker and hiding it from his wife. Maybe I shouldn’t be concerned about the wife who is trusting her husband so much that she never checks his cell phone account for usage, or his email account on occasion or stops by his office on a whim. But I do worry. If an affair could happen in my marriage, it could happen to anyone.

It bothers me I only learned after my husband’s affair that the biggest vulnerability was believing that infidelity would never happen to us. I thought if you love one another and enjoy each other, your spouse would never stray. I thought that true love meant there would never be deception. I believed that we shared the same values and morals and that meant lies, cheating and adultery did not exist in our lives.

It bothers me that I cannot escape the incessant conversation in my head about my husband’s affair. Remember before your Midnight Call and you could live in each moment of your day? I remember the happiness I felt and the way I loved my husband without thought. Now my brain is running 24/7 with questions, fears, anxieties, mistrust and loathing. Even if I feel a moment of happiness, I then start to think about my new normal – being aware of happiness despite my inner pain and struggle. The roller coaster conversation in my brain is exhausting.

It bothers me that my husband’s character is marred and our marriage is scarred. No matter how we come out of this mess, the story remains in our lives. The Hussy becomes part of our lives, part of my daughters’ lives.

It bothers me that I have to talk about this shit every f*cking day. It pisses me off that The Hussy has one second of a thought in my brain. People I hate should not take up space in my mind. Why do I continue to brainstorm ideas of how I could screw up her life? Why am I such a good person that I will never carry them out. I believe in karma and I don’t want any bad karma in my life. I hate that I want to walk away, but then I lose out on the greatest joy of my life… Being a full-time Mom… all because he couldn’t keep his d*ck in his pants.

I am hoping that some day it will end. This affair will not define me. But right now, it feels like a shadow I cannot escape. Right now I feel stuck, with no answer. No light at the end of the tunnel. No happiness no matter how this story ends.
If only this is where my story ended…