My daughter was born shortly before Christmas of the year of 2012. Yup, I had two babies born in the same year. It had been an extremely rough pregnancy, nothing like with my son. With my son, I got nauseous a lot but only threw up once. With my daughter, I swear I threw up every other day. I got big fast, and could hardly move around my house. Every step I took, my pelvis would snap. I couldn’t turn over in bed without being in a fuck ton of pain. I was glad when she was ready to come out.
And she was beautiful. Once again, it was the best day of my life. My baby girl was so gorgeous and I loved her with everything I had. All of the resentment, all of the pain I’d been through in that nine months, it all faded away when I looked into her eyes. I had worried about how much I loved my son; I didn’t understand how I could possibly ever love another child as much as I loved him. But after she was born, it was easy.
These two children were my entire world. I cannot begin to describe how much I adored them. They were the most important people in the world to me. You know how people say that their spouse is there other half? Not me. My babies were the other half of me.
On the few times I went to the grocery store and left the kids with my husband, I’d go with my best friend and constantly have mini heart attacks thinking I lost my kids. It felt weird going anywhere without them. This didn’t happen very often, as my husband would at least make me take our daughter. I’d come home and our son would be shut up in his room watching Sesame Street while my husband would be playing games. That shit would piss me off.
We taught our son to be self sufficient. He’d play in his room with Sesame Street on for a little while and then we’d get him out. My husband would leave him in there for longer and forget. It made me upset.
My daughter, on the other hand, demanded all of my attention almost every second of the day. She was a tough one. I didn’t co-sleep with my son, but my daughter needed to be in my personal space when she slept. Our noses had to be touching or she wouldn’t sleep. It was cute, but at times, frustrating. She and I had a very special bond and she preferred Mommy over Daddy any day of the week. Of course, this may have contributed to the fact that I didn’t think my husband didn’t even like our daughter. He’d rarely hold her, which would actually cause a little damage later.
She had colic, and let me tell you, it is hell if you don’t already know. We called it her “hell hours”, where she would scream from 4pm to 8pm every night. I’d do everything I could to console her. I’d turn on our stereo system and stand right in front of it, rocking her and singing to her whatever was playing. Then she would go to sleep.
My best friend would take our daughter on occasion after she was born. Because she was demanding so much attention, I felt I was losing out on time with my son. This allowed me to focus on my budding toddler.
My son turned one about two weeks after my daughter was born. I planned his birthday party for months. It was themed “The Very Hungry Caterpillar”. When he was around four months old, we bought said caterpillar at the mall in Japan. It was the first toy we ever saw him get attached to. He loved his “capitillar” which is what we called it. To this day, I have such a hard time pronouncing “caterpillar” because of how I’ve said it for years.
I researched Pinterest, ebay, had a poster designed, and paid $50 for a caterpillar cake. There was only one other baby there and the rest were our friends. They all loved him though. We even got our daughter a special tutu made to match all the colors. I put every ounce of energy and creativity in his first birthday and I couldn’t wait to do so with my daughter.
My son was growing fast, started walking too. It was amazing to see this little one that was the size of my daughter (exact by the way. both of them weighed the exact same weight when they were born).
A few months passed by. Life was okay. With my children, amazing. With my husband, well, I sort of lost all interest in him. I was very nonchalant about my marriage. He hadn’t done anything, but my heart didn’t feel the same and I knew it. But I had a good life.
There was so much betrayal in the entirety of our relationship, that I think my heart pretty much gave up fighting for it. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, other than the fact it pissed me off that he didn’t help much with the kids. He’d get whatever they needed, anything I wanted, but day to day needs, he just didn’t. I always fed them, bathed them, changed them, and dealt with my daughter’s hell hours. I’d stay up all night when they were sick, get up for late night changes and feedings. He didn’t do any of that.
But we were taken care of. I also ran my own home business as a Pure Romance consultant and did online college. So I figured, maybe the longer I stayed, love would come back.
Did I believe that? No. I was unhappy with my marriage in general. There were many times where things would be great, but deep down, I just didn’t feel the kind of love I knew I should have.
There were a few times we’d fight and I’d bring up divorce and it would be quickly shot down. I quickly realized that he would never accept it if it was my idea. It had to be his idea.
So, I messaged Hannah. You remember Hannah? The bitch that ruined everything. Well, my husband did too. I made up some sad story about not feeling like he wanted to be married and how I care about him, but I didn’t think he was happy.
And it worked. Perfectly, I might add. I knew Hannah wouldn’t be able to resist talking to my husband about it. She wanted to save him if she knew he was unhappy. Girls like that are so easy.
And sure enough, in June, my husband approached me with the idea of divorce. We hadn’t been fighting, we’d just been living. It was a calm conversation. We’d been the happiest for a few months, but inside, neither of us felt it anymore. So, we discussed at our next base, we’d separate then. We were due to leave Japan soon, and were waiting for re-assignment.