My last post satisfied my need to vent all the bad shit that has happened in the last week in addition to the reality that our $20,000+ gamble was a bust. Hubby’s unfortunate choice of words. Being sick. The horrific cramps.
But let me be clear. It hasn’t all been doom and gloom around here. While bullet points offer dramatic effect, they don’t tell the whole story. Even the “We have to move on” statement wasn’t the end of that conversation. It went a little something like this:
Hubby: We have to move on.
Me: But I’m not done being sad yet.
Hubby: I know, and that’s fine. But we still have to get stuff done.
By “stuff,” he meant things like washing dishes, folding my laundry,* or cleaning the litter box. All things I hadn’t been doing because I couldn’t manage to get my ass off the couch. I haven’t wanted to leave the house, other than to go to work, and Hubby has been offering to fetch me food when he goes out. I haven’t been taking very good care of myself, and I know he’s worried about me. I’m sure that’s where the “We have to move on” comment came from.
We haven’t been fighting or cutting each other down. If anything, he’s been trying really hard to lift me up. And I’ve been letting him because that’s what I need right now. I’ve been trying to distract myself with books and TV. Hubby’s been suggesting movies, just to keep my mind off of the big, bad horrible. And I’ve been able to laugh and enjoy our time together.
He’s also been trying extra-hard to find a job. He’s looking in new territory and starting his cover letter from scratch. He wants to get us to a place (geographically and/or financially) where we can try again.
The day we got the news that I was not pregnant was only the second time I’ve seen Hubby close to tears. He didn’t cry, but I know he was deeply affected. He was more convinced than anyone that this would work. But he has a switch inside that I do not possess. One that allows him to process new information and change course almost immediately. So he went into fix-it mode, and that’s where he’s been ever since. I’m still in wallow mode, and it’s really hard to get out of it.
We’re not broken. Okay, I might be a little broken. But our relationship is intact. We’re still in this together.
*He had already folded and put his laundry away. And washed all his dishes. Don’t get me started on the litter box.