Off with her Head

These retro salt and pepper shakers have the boy and girl seated on a little wooden bench, kissing. But a few months ago, by accident (?) and coincidentally (?) after an argument with my man, I dropped them while cleaning off the kitchen counter. Actually, I didn’t drop him, only her. I broke off her head. When I put her back on the bench, I stepped back. Exactly, I thought. That’s exactly how I feel right now. Like he’s ripped my head off with his words.

It was a week of negotiating emotional landmines. Tiring, yes. Productive? No. And in the midst of it, a friend’s wedding, filled with love, hope, innocence, fun, excitement, authenticity. And my man, the officiant at the wedding.

That weekend and for the days following, he told me every day he loved me.
He told me he’d marry me again, today, every day.
I didn’t believe him. Well, kind of but not fully.
So I told him I wasn’t “quite there yet” after our fight(s) the week before.

You guessed it, that started another fight.

But this time was different. Now, the landmines were REALLY right in front of us, one after the other. No, I didn’t mean to hurt him by not being available to pick up his tux Thursday. Yes, I’ve planned for this wedding too. Yes, I’m your partner. Yes, it takes me a while to get over these blow-ups. Yes, it’s confusing when you’re happy and we have a delightful weekend one minute and the next you act like I’m the devil incarnate in a wife. No, NO, you are NOT going to blame me for the fact that I wasn’t ready for years to marry you or have children with you. No, that’s not the reason, I am not the reason, we have not had children.

That’s when it all came out.

Crying. Anger. Good, old-fashioned real anger. Yes, he was angry, and rightfully so. Angry that he may not ever get to be a father. Frustrated beyond belief that he can’t fix it or change it. Sad that he hurt me with his words, that he acted out.

Forgiveness, sweet sweet forgiveness.

We are together, after getting pregnant 3 times in one year, with one making it to 5 weeks, one to 7 weeks, one to 2 weeks. Together. And not knowing what’s next.

I have been looking forward to this whole baby-making quest being resolved.
But I didn’t count on all this emptiness.

I’m ok. Just want you to know. Really – I am, we are. I just wanted you to know what’s up.