When I lost the first baby, back in the spring of 2017, I wrote a post about how I survived. It wasn't easy, but grieving didn't involve a dramatic restructuring of my daily life.
So now I've had to essentially start over, with the knowledge that I'm going to be starting over again once kiddo gets here, and yet again when I have to go back to work. My new normal is ephemeral and dirty and stinks of desperation. Wake up alone, text no one that I love them, text no one throughout the day, meet no one for lunch, text no one that you're leaving work, meet no one at home, cook dinner for no one, go to bed alone.
But I know it won't always be like this. When she gets here, she'll be my sole focus until I'm confident and then I'll continue to work on developing this tiny human into a successful person, while also pulling myself out of the ashes of my demolished relationship.
There has been some personal growth involved. Like acknowledging to myself that my husband wasn't going to come back just because I was doing the dishes and cleaning the sink. And then slacking on those duties once my heart broke a little more. And finally doing them again once I realized that, goddammit, I like having a clean kitchen.
Or realizing that just because I'm super fucking depressed, I can't skip out on life. Or food. So I scheduled things to fill my time. I try to have at least one plan for every weekend, because the weekends are the worst. I've scribed at a dressage show, I've audited lessons, I photographed a friend competing. I've met people for lunch, I've hung out at the barn, I've gone to all those little classes. This weekend, I'm going thrift shopping for baby stuff with another pregnant friend. Next weekend, I've got my baby shower and I'm volunteering at a health fair. The weekend after that, my hair stylist will be in town and I've promised him loads of juicy gossip.
That's another thing. I write emails to my husband that I don't send. They're emotional and vacillate between anger and pain and are pretty damn cathartic. I'm pretty sure he's blocked me on iMessage (hey, it's me, your wife, till death do us part? I'd love some money for groceries/dog food/medications and for you to finance that mold inspection. Thanks for covering the termites.), but I still send him stuff there, too.
It's an all-around fucked up situation. You love someone, so you want them to be happy. But when they pursue their happiness by stomping all over you and your life, you begrudge them that happiness. Do you love them any less or do you just reach the point of self-preservation where their happiness can't come at the expense of your life?
And for those who have asked, no. I'll never take him back.
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