How many times do I need to be called a f**king selfish b*tch before it doesn’t matter? To be honest the first several times hurt like hell…then the next many times, you become numb to the cruel words. Name calling is done when an individual doesn’t have the tools to provide a better argument. Does that make it hurt less? No. Does that make it mean so little? No. Abuse is abuse in any form. How many times does it take before it hurts again. Hurt, numbness, hurt…that’s the pattern. I can let it go and numb myself to the words, knowing it is his own insecurity that allows him to be mean, but once an awhile it cuts to my core. When things have been good, it hurts more…it matters more. So how many times do I have to hear it before I don’t care anymore? I wish I knew…time will tell!
So I already have a six year old step son in my eight year long relationship with my husband, not that hard to do the math. I wear this on my sleeve for everyone to see. We made it through, with rough waves and murky waters, but made it through none the less. When the first fidelity happened, because there was a child produced as a result, everyone had been in the know. Not just me to handle and grieve alone but now my children knew, my friends knew, my first husband and his wife knew, my parents knew and my older brothers knew. Not an easy sell to the family when you explain that you will now become a stepmom after two years into a relationship. But we made it through. Although I felt in my heart that my husband viewed our relationship different now that we were married, I would still asked….would you ever do that to me again now that we are married. His answer was always the same…”I would never do that to you, it’s different now that we’re married”. And so I thought. I trusted, I believed, I thought it was true. Strike two…I suffered in silence. Now with no baby as a result from the affair this time, no one needed to know, not my kids, not my friends, not my parents, definitely not my brothers…only me. Not sure if it was harder or easier to suffer in silence.
When medical students are studying to get their Doctor of Medicine degree…they are given a patient scenario where everything goes wrong, when nothing should, no explanation. I was told, that was me. Four previous easy, healthy, quick labors and births, made it seem that this one would follow suit. It did not, not in any way. I suffered from placenta accreta. My placenta was too attached to my uterus and with delivery, the uterus tore. We knew none of this, not before, not during, not immediately after.
It came early in the morning…the text that made him run out the door…the birth of his first born child…with another woman…a piece of my heart left with him that day. Selfishly, by the Grace of God he missed the actual birth and got there hours later. I would not have survived otherwise. I would have left if he had been there holding the hand of the other woman while she gave birth to his son. It would have been too much for me to bear.
My first four children did not have namesakes except my grandfather’s name for my son. But when I envisioned children with my new man…I wanted to honor him and give him a namesake…a junior…a second. Then he shared his middle name to the other woman who was to bore him his first born son. My heart was once again torn in two. No longer will our child in the future be a namesake, a junior, a second. I will never forget where I was and how I got the news when my boyfriend called to tell me he and “her” had found a name for their child. How much pain should I take? Is this something I can really love him through? Am I open enough? Am I strong enough? Time will tell, so until then I continue to love.
This is usually exciting news….unless it’s about your love’s unborn child. I won’t ever forget the call when my boyfriend found out that the other woman carrying his unborn child…his first born child…would be giving him a son. His first born son…my heart dropped. Trying to be happy for my love while taking a piece of my heart off the floor. Love without condition I told myself…love with acceptance…I reminded my heart…Am I strong enough? Can I do this? Only thing I can do is try.
What’s harder to handle, the emotional affair or the physical? To be honest, the emotional is hard, extremely hard for me to understand. I hate the physical nature of infidelity! I don’t understand how you can lie with someone else once you have given your vow to another…to let another woman touch you so intimately, how can you feel no remorse in the moment. Why would you think that is ok? How do you face your loved one after doing this? I can’t comprehend this in any way. But the emotional part of infidelity is almost unbearable. Which do I spend more time upset about? Which do I spend more time healing? My heart is tore in different places because of both. Trying to heal the emotional tear and trying to mend the physical hole is sometimes too much for one heart to bear.
Married to my second husband, expecting a child (produced from my husband’s infidelity), regrouping from a separation and divorce from my first husband, getting back into the work field full force after losing both businesses in my divorce, rebuilding trust with my husband after infidelity, raising my four young children, homeschooling all four children, my youngest transitioning from boy to girl completely now, and changing my life as I knew it before…they say God only gives you what you can handle, I guess he thinks I can handle quite a bit. And I did, I persevered and come out stronger, wiser, more in tact than ever before…My character got me through, my strength pulled me through, my ability to overcome helped me handle the many curve balls thrown my way.
If I decided to stay with this man, the infidelity would be something I would have to wear for all to see. My four young children, ages now 3-8 years old, would have to be told, even if they don’t completely understand. There was a baby on the way, my boyfriend’s very first child, the child I had envisioned giving him, having together, is now with another. My first husband and his new wife would know, my children would know, my family and friends would know. My man’s infidelity would be something I would wear on my sleeve for all to see from here on out. There is a child produced from the affair. I had no choice but to acknowledge the child, support the relationship with my boyfriend’s first born child, and show my children the act of forgiveness. Not an easy task, was not done with ease, took almost all I had in me to find this place of love for my man.
They say the first cut is the deepest…indeed it is. Having experienced my one true love since I was fifteen, telling me he wanted a separation after six years of dating, five years of marriage, two toddlers and six weeks pregnant…definitely cuts deep. My heart broke for the first time, completely in two.
Second cut scars and remains, but isn’t as deep. Can I manage? Can I forgive? Can I take back?…after infidelity, after knowing a baby of another woman is on it’s way, after the second scar to my heart. I did.
My heart had been broken in two once in my life but it is not a jagged heart, a blackened heart, a hesitant heart. It is open, possible forgiveness, for another thought of love with the man who caused my heart to scar.
Is it because he doesn’t have the ability to be the first cut, or is it because I have had my first cut? I am not a scorned woman and have not allowed my heart to be unforgiving. So I love him and we try again.