Some say betrayal is like drowning… you don’t realize how deep you’ve sunk until you try to breathe. I learned this truth on a Tuesday in April when I came home early from a business trip and discovered my husband’s secret hiding behind our guest room door. The fertility clinic waiting room was always too cold.
I sat there flipping through a parenting magazine, staring at smiling families while the clock ticked past our appointment time. Again, Matt was late. And I made excuses for him…
again.
“Ma’am?” The nurse called, clipboard in hand. “We can’t start without your husband. Should we reschedule?”
I checked my phone.
Three texts were sent but none were answered. “Give him five more minutes, please?”
But after 15 minutes, I gathered my purse and jacket. “I’m sorry.
Something must have come up.”
I called my husband as I walked back to my car. But it went straight to voicemail just like the fertility clinic visit last month. And the month before that.
When I got home, Matt was sprawled on the couch, controller in hand and headset on. He was laughing with his gaming buddies online. “Carol!
You’re back early!” He set down the controller. “How was the appointment?”
I stood in the entryway, keys still in hand. “There was no appointment.
Not without you.”
He winced. “Babe, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.”
“That’s the third time, Matt.”
“I know, I know.
Work’s been crazy and—”
“You work part-time,” I countered. “Look, I’m just not sure now’s the right time for a baby. Your job takes you away so much, and kids are expensive.”
“So I should keep working harder, keep traveling more, until what?
Until we can afford the perfect life for this hypothetical child?”
“Exactly!” He smiled, relieved I understood. “If you could get that promotion…”
I didn’t argue. I just nodded and went to shower, letting the hot water mix with my tears.
I wanted a baby more than anything, but Matt always had a new excuse. Yet I kept pushing forward, took more clients, more trips, and more responsibility… all to reach this moving target he kept shifting. Because love makes you stupid.
And I loved Matt more than I loved myself. “I’ll do better,” I whispered to my reflection that night. “I’ll be better.”
***
Three months later, I was packing for another business trip—my fourth this quarter.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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