What I Want You to Know is a series of reader submissions. It is an attempt to allow people to tell their personal stories, in the hopes of bringing greater compassion to the unique issues each of us face. If you would like to submit a story to this series, click here. Today’s guest post is by Sarah Wright and she blogs over at Redemptionwins.
Sitting on the side of the tub in my parents’ bathroom, I stared at the two lines on the pregnancy test. I felt numb. I felt scared. I felt ashamed. What was I going to tell my husband? It was not his.
The last few years had been full of tragedy and chaos for our family. During this time, a disconnect formed in my marriage that we were not able to address at the time. My husband Josh was in an accident, and because of this, he was diagnosed with a Traumatic Brain Injury and PTSD.
I felt I had lost the man I married. My previously outgoing and full-of-life husband became a recluse, alone in his room. Those weekends previously filled with fun family outings became quiet nights in front of a television or trips without daddy. The nights laying with Josh talking for hours became hours of loneliness and tears. The man I fell in love with was no longer with me.
As time went on, I found my own therapy for these stressors. Making sure things were set in place at home, I would tuck our two boys in for the night, and I would head out with friends for what I justified as a much-deserved break.
What started as once every other month became twice a week. What started as one drink led to countless drinks. I hit my very lowest point in life. Far too often, a friend would bring me home, and I would quietly stumble inside, collapsing wherever was closest or most convenient.
One morning, as I sat on the toilet with my head against the wall, I woke up to my son’s voice in the bathroom.
“What are you doing Mommy?”
I looked down and noticed my clothes were on the floor. I felt embarrassed, but I numbly stated, “I’m just going potty.”
I convinced myself that everything was fine, but I was in great denial. While my nightly excursions gave me a reprieve from my new daily reality, it could not fill the void that was created by the changes in Josh.
I yearned for his affection. I yearned for praise, for comfort, for attention.
When I felt like I was not receiving this at home, I selfishly found it from another guy. He would send me flirty texts, give me compliments, and I felt appreciated. After making this connection, we had an emotional affair for a little over a month. What started as an emotional affair became physical. I broke a covenant I never thought I would. Although I felt some guilt, I continued to justify living two different lives.
One day after work, I walked into the bathroom feeling exhausted, and I looked in the mirror. I can remember the circles under my eyes, the pure exhaustion showing itself on my face. I kept putting it off but finally made myself buy a pregnancy test. After the results truly sank in, I realized that my immoral actions were about to start affecting my family.
When I could no longer contain the guilt, I told Josh that I had some important things to tell him. I felt like it was going to be simple. We ate breakfast at a pancake shop that morning, and with each sweet, sticky bite I delayed telling the truth.
When we finished eating, we sat in a parking lot, and I told him about the affair.
“I’ve been having a relationship with someone else.”
His eyes turned towards me, and he asked, “What kind of relationship? Who is he? Have you had sex?”
I responded quietly. “Just a guy I met, yes, I’m sor…,” I started to apologize.
He interrupted with gruff words. “Don’t say another word. Don’t speak to me right now.”
As the car door slammed, I shook and my eyes filled with tears. I watched as Josh walked stiffly to the end of the parking lot and rammed his fist into a street sign causing it to swing back and forth. He returned and as he opened the door, he could barely veil his anger.
“Take me home.”
He packed a bag for the night, and he left.
The tension and draining emotions were so high that I was not upset to see him go. I was relieved.
The next day, he came back. I was shocked and selfishly disappointed.
For the next couple months, we took the normal steps of trying to save a relationship. We saw therapists, we talked to friends, we went to church. During this process, we told my family about the pregnancy.
My dad said something I will always remember. “You can both give 100%, but that does not mean this will work out.” At the time, I heard this as pessimism.
As we moved forward with broken hearts, we both focused on our own hurts, our own needs, and our own happiness. I reached a point of giving up, and I told him I could no longer fight this fight. The baby continued to grow inside of me, and I began building walls around me.
We both hired attorneys, and the tension between us grew. Our divorce date was set. I could not stand to be around him or hear his voice. Every time we spoke, I raged while he would speak so calmly. This made me question him more. How could he treat me with respect right now? No way could he be sincere.
When I was about 8 months pregnant, we had another angry phone conversation. But this time when I hung up, I couldn’t shake the question “What if? Was it possible for us to be a family again?”
I texted Josh my feelings, and he brought me a recording of a message from church on forgiveness. “Please listen to this,” he pleaded.
I did, and as I listened, I finally cried the tears that I hadn’t let out in three years.
We decided that we would wait until the baby arrived before we discussed anything regarding our relationship. The emotions were too intense emotions and the decisions too big to tackle before I gave birth.
The day I was scheduled to have Garrett via c-section, Josh brought me breakfast. It was kind of surreal. As he stood there silently, I felt a connection between us again, a contentment I’d missed for years.
After I delivered Garrett, I sat in the hospital room alone for many hours. I cried as I reviewed events from the past year in my head.
“Why, Sarah? What were you thinking? Who will help you take care of your new son? What are people going to say? What’s going to happen to your marriage? Is this even possible to save?“
For the first time, my heart yearned for grace, forgiveness, and reconciliation.
Despite my new openness to reconciling, moving forward was still difficult. Josh doubted my intentions and his ability to trust me again after what I had done. I knew that I had to show him that my change of heart was sincere and that I was committed to our marriage. After several sessions with our therapist, Josh and I made a promise to each other to save our marriage. Although we knew this would not be easy, we resolved to be steadfastly dedicated to one another.
The following months were an emotional roller coaster. We both had to give 100%, sometimes more. Life would just about seem normal, and then a wound would open from the past in one of us. We had to focus on each others’ needs, not just our own. We had to allow one another to heal at the speed best for them. We had to remember we were a team.
We surrounded ourselves with people that supported us, showed us love, and held us accountable. We had to put our lives back together as a couple after we had already started building lives without each other. Our hearts were humble, open, and redeemed.
Perhaps the biggest blessing to come out of this was that our three boys watched true forgiveness and reconciliation play out in front of them. From the moment they met, Garrett and Josh looked at each other with absolute adoration. Garrett naturally fell into being a daddy’s boy, and when he was two, Josh officially adopted him.
He constantly asks, “Where’s Daddy?” and would be delighted to be attached to Josh’s side. I am still amazed to see the place as our youngest has in so many people’s hearts.
It has been five years, and sometimes it seems surreal, like the whole thing was a dream. Other times we have to rewind and address wounds we did not know existed. My favorite times are the nights we lay together in the dark, snuggled up tight, as Josh rubs my head. We talk out the past and revel in gratitude for the way we stuck it out through so many hurts and mistakes to build the marriage and family we have now.
