Dear Husband, Where Are You?

Dear Husband,

I'm managing this house all by myself. You remember this house, right? The one we bought and rennovated together? The one we customized for our family of five? I've been cleaning it, removing the fall leaves, cleaning the gutters, mowing the lawn, and fixing the little things that need repaired. I've been doing this all by myself. And where are you, Husband? You're living in your new rental in another town, having abandonded not only me but all the plans we made for this house.

I'm going to doctor appointments by myself. Every month, I go to the OB's office, hear the baby's heartbeat, have blood drawn for medical tests, pee in a cup for even more medical tests, and hear the results of all these tests. I do this alone. And where are you, Husband? You're at work, ignoring the fact that I am about to bring your child into this world.

I'm sitting at home each evening, exhausted and achy, belly fully of cramps as my uterus grows, back aching as my center of balance shifts. Growing a human being inside your body is hard. It's uncomfortable and sometimes painful. It makes you physically ill. It wreaks havoc with your emotions. Pregnancy is a time in a woman's life when she needs the most amount of support. And where are you, Husband? You're with Other Woman #4, spending romantic evenings in, oblivious to the fact that you are missing the miracle of your baby's development.

I'm paying all these bills, including the ones you committed to. I never intended to have a mortgage this large by myself or to be solely responsible for tens of thousands of dollars of additional debt from choices we made together. Yet here I am, working hard, making sure each bill gets paid on time. And where are you, Husband? You're working, but you aren't sharing a damn cent of your money with the woman you vowed to take care of for the rest of your life.

I'm taking care of my child. I'm feeding him, clothing him, keeping a roof over his head. I'm consoling him as he mourns the loss of a step-father and step-brothers. I try to explain things in a way that his grade-school-age mind can understand. He doesn't understand that you cheated, that you're a narcissist, or that we're both better off without you. All he knows is that one day he had three more family members, and the next day, they were gone. And where are you, Husband? You're taking vacations with #4's family, getting to know her child, while never once acknowledging the existence of the step-child you left behind. You're missing out on your time with your own children in favor of this new family you found, without letting them see their step-brother or talk to their step-mother. Do you even bother to try to console them? Do you understand how much you've altered everyone's lives to follow your selfish need to cheat?

But guess what, Husband? It's all OK. You're not here right now. But this also means that you won't be here in the future.

I will continue to experience the amazing miracle that is pregnancy. I will watch my belly continue to grow. I will see the baby's tiny hand wave in the ultrasound. I will feel the baby move inside me. This baby will recognize the sound of my voice and the feeling of my heart beat. This baby will enter the world and know who I am. And where will you be, Husband? You will still be foresaking your wife and children for the delusion you have that this new family will be a better replacement.

I will deliver this baby and feel the joy of motherhood again. I will hold a little body in my arms. I will feel the warmth of a baby sleeping on my chest. I will feel the weight of a little head resting on my shoulder. I will breathe in the new baby scent and feel the softness of new skin and hair. And where will you be, Husband? You will be so caught up in your own self that you won't even realize what you're missing. You will miss the miracle of watching this new life come into the world.

I will be a part of all this child's "firsts." First food. First word. First step. First day of preschool. First day of kindergarten. First fight with a friend. First book read alone. First sleepover. First date. First kiss. First time driving. And where will you be, Husband? You will miss everything. But don't worry; I will make sure this child doesn't feel your absence. I will be there enough for both of us, supporting and encouraging this child. I will be grateful to to share all these experiences.

I will continue to make the most out of my life. I have found more strenghth in your absence than you ever gave me in our marriage. I will be successful. I will fill my life with amazing experience and memories with my kids. I will find someone else, someone worthy of me, to share my life with. And where will you be, Husband? You will be alone. You don't really believe this relationship with a woman who also cheated on her spouse will last, do you? You don't really believe your children will forgive you and look at you the same way again, do you? Oh, Husband, you are fooling yourself.

I will end up an old woman, wrinkled and gray, with stories to share and fond memories to look back on. I will be surrounded by friends and family, children and grandchildren. I will go to my grave satisfied with the life I lived, knowing that I did all I could to do right by my family, to build a wonderful life for myself and for them. And where will you be, Husband? You will be alone on your deathbed, a miserable old man filled with the regrets of what could have been, mising the people who once loved you but can't be bothered with you now.

You will face the realization that you traded in years of love and family for a few good times with a woman who wouldn't know the definition of the word loyalty if it smacked her in the face. (Then again, you don't know the definition of that word, either.) You will realize that you missed out on your child's life, and that you lost the love of a good woman who otherwise would've supported you throughout all the hardships life may have thrown at you over the years. I wonder how it feels to face those hardships alone, especially knowing that you caused them yourself. Let me know, will you? Because this is one experience that I won't be there for.