My Husband Wants Out of Our Marriage!

So, he did it. After almost ten years of marriage, my husband announced that he is leaving, moving out, beginning the process that will result in the legal end of our wedded union. It's been two weeks and I still can't believe I was on the receiving end of those words. I can't believe they were directed at me, uttered for my ears to hear and my brain to process. We've never had a stellar marriage but I didn't think we'd reached this point. Why are we talking divorce?

Our history is one that seems to provide the groundwork for a long-lasting marriage. We met in first grade, became close friends throughout high school, even called each other's parents Mom and Dad. While we went our separate ways through our twenties we always stayed in touch through letters, phone calls and visits. We nursed each other through break-ups and bad jobs. We were best friends.

Then one night, he did it. At the end of a fun-filled evening at our favorite, local hangout and twenty-two years after our fist meeting, he suggested we date each other. He then kissed me on the cheek and disappeared into the night. Hmmm. I was stunned. Not only had he caught me off guard with his suggestion and his kiss, but I caught myself off guard as I immediately began to consider that this could be a good idea. He was my long-time friend, the man who knew all the good things about me as well as every stupid thing I had done and still liked me in spite of them all.

Not wanting to rush to a decision - I was a thinker and was often indecisive for not wanting to make a bad choice - I took awhile to mull it over. What finally moved me to accept his advances was pondering the question, "Who would treat me better than him?" I thought about all the fun we had together and how we had a mutual respect and fondness for each other. It seemed like a wonderful foundation on which to build a life together. This wasn't someone I had recently met, someone I didn't know much about, someone whose intentions I would question. This was someone I knew I could trust, that I liked and that, when I opened up my mind to the possibility, could see myself spending the rest of my life with.

So we dated, eventually moved in together and four years after our first date, married. We weren't ones to live lavishly. Our wedding was modest but it was a fun event with our families and close friends. Between dances with my new husband, I knelt on the floor with my toddler nieces and danced the night away. We did all of the corny dances that people say they don't like but gets them on the dance floor - the chicken dance, the hokey-pokey, the bunny hop. You name it, our DJ played it! Our honeymoon was at an east coast beach. It was a blend of mild adventure and much needed relaxation. It was perfect.

Getting back to the real world, we returned to the duplex we were renting for a couple more years then bought a home of our own. It was a complete fixer-upper. My husband had always dreamed of fixing up a home to live in. While it wasn't a dream of mine, I was willing to honor his wishes and follow him on this journey. It was a lot of work. I learned how to do things I never thought I'd ever do - build walls, lay flooring, spackle and sand drywall seams, to name just a few. We spent every evening and weekend working on that house for six months straight. When we were halfway done we received the news that we were soon going to be parents. That was my dream - to have a family. To be a mom.

And that, I think, marked the beginning of the end of our marriage. When the morning sickness kicked in and doctor's orders needed to be followed, my husband lost his faithful sidekick. I wasn't really gone but just as my body was changing so were my priorities, my point of view, and the desire for how to spend my time. I was moving into mommy mode and now had to divide my time and thoughts among various prepare-for-the-baby projects, doctor appointments and commitments to home, work and my husband. I think that was a difficult adjustment for him. I don't think he ever accepted the changes. Baby #1 arrived at the beginning of summer - a handsome baby boy, perfect in every way. It was a joyous day!

The next few years were filled with a series of big changes. They were so numerous and in such close succession that I think it was too stressful for my husband, a man who kept feelings bottled inside, a man who wanted to be the perfect provider for his family, a man who couldn't come to terms with not being able to protect his family from forces bigger than himself.

Two months after Baby #1 was born, I received and accepted a job offer. For me it was the dream job - part time, on-site child care, in the field I had studied to work in. But adjusting to a new job and being new to the mom gig wasn't easy for me. The job was a struggle, my husband wasn't supportive or encouraging and four months after starting it, I learned I was pregnant with Baby #2. I stayed at the job for six more months then quit to prepare for the new baby - a precious baby girl; my real, live baby doll, born near the end of summer. I had always wanted at least one boy and one girl so I felt very blessed to now have one of each.

My children are 14 months apart and as you can imagine, needed a lot of care and attention when they were young. My husband was traveling a lot on business, which wasn't a desirable situation for any of us. When our son was almost two and our daughter was just six months, my husband found a job closer to families, so we packed up and moved back home. Now, our fixer-upper house was still a fixer-upper. We weren't done remodeling but we felt this was a move we had to make. We figured we could take long weekends here and there to get the job done. When we put our minds to it, and didn't have little ones beckoning for us, we were good partners. We also thought it might provide for good bonding time among the males in my husbands family, who often banded together to work on projects. We weren't too concerned about how the work was going to get done.

For our first six months back home, we lived with my husband's sister before finding a house of our own. We wanted to re-do the kids' bedrooms before moving in so we didn't actually reside in our new home until three months after the closing. Again, my husband was traveling a lot, which wasn't supposed to be the case, so while taking care of our young children, I was slowly but surely making the changes we wanted. When we finally moved in one cool, crisp autumn day we did so with an eye toward the future. We were looking forward to getting settled into our own home and moving on with a more leisurely life. Little did we know what was in store for us.

Two weeks after moving in, my husband started a new job. The one he took when we moved back home was not a good place to be. He was sold the job with a bunch of lies. Three days after starting this new job our son's pediatrician discussed with me concerns she had over my son's lingering cold and the blood work done to help determine what was going on with him. Per her instructions, the next day we found ourselves in the local pediatric oncology clinic where our son, then approaching 2 ½ year old, was diagnosed with leukemia. I can never put into words the emotions that filled that day. The fear, the sadness, the disbelief, the uncertainty. We were told that his specific type of leukemia had about a 90% cure rate, but of course, until we saw how he would respond to treatment we wouldn't know if he would come out on the favorable end of the statistics.

I'm happy to say that our son has done very well after enduring three long years of daily chemotherapy, quarterly spinal taps, three bone marrow aspirations, countless late-night ER visits, numerous blood transfusions, monthly steroid rages, one bout of low antibodies, one ICU admission, one ambulance ride and two surgeries - one to insert a mediport under his skin and another to remove it. A bit stressful to say the least, but a blessing to have it all be successful.

Of course, that only describes the physical nature of what our son had to endure. The emotional toll on our son, I think, was limited. I'm not saying it didn't affect him, but being so young he didn't have questions, didn't realize he was different, didn't realize other kids didn't go through what he went through. He adapted amazingly well. For all the fear and anxiety he had exhibited at the beginning of the journey, he turned into one of the most patient patients one could ever hope to see. He was polite to his caregivers, he helped them administer his medications, he flashed his cutest smile for them, he followed every order without hesitation.

For my husband and I, it was a different story. To be helpless except for following doctor's orders, to be positive and strong for the kids only to be wiped out when it came to being there for each other, to want to provide the most normal life we could for our kids but not agree on how to achieve that, I think the culmination of all that stress was the final straw. To be honest, I feel I adapted well, much to my surprise. There was nothing in my life prior to this on which I could draw upon for guidance. I cried when I needed to and got to work when I had to. I talked to others about my feelings, I asked the doctors questions to better understand how to care for my son, and I read stories from others to learn from their experiences. I sought out the blessings in my life knowing that as much as this leukemia was a part of our lives, it wasn't the only part. We had family with good things going on to be happy for, we had our house, we could pay our bills, our daughter was healthy, our son was fighting a good fight. In my mind there truly were gifts to be grateful for.

I tried to be there for my husband in the ways that he needed me, but he shut down and put distance between us. He kept his feelings bottled up inside. When he finally had so much built up, he would explode. He never physically hurt us, but would lash out at us verbally and emotionally for things he shouldn't have. He made it known that we were the source of his stress. I think he finally came to believe that to be the truth. I thought he would be the strong one through all of this. He has a sister who was diagnosed with a long-term illness at the age of four. She lived and suffered through it until age 26. I thought that by seeing all that she went through, he would have been better equipped than I to work through our son's illness. Perhaps dealing with another young child with a serious illness, did exactly the opposite.

That brings us to date and my husband's announcement of his plans to move on. We are a little more than one year past the end of my son's treatment. Life is settling into a more normal pattern. The kids are in school and are moving beyond the preschool stage. They are becoming more independent and I am finding I have a little more time to myself. I thought it would be a time when I could rediscover my old self and my husband and I could reconnect and get back to the business of being a closer couple. But that isn't how life is unfolding. I think my husband held on as long as he could but I think he just doesn't have the energy to work on our marriage. Paraphrasing his words, in his mind it has been over for a long time.

Now I must find a way to move on. Rather than rediscovering the old me I need to uncover a new me. I'm not a person to identify myself as wearing one hat, so perhaps it won't be as difficult as it initially seems. I play a variety of other roles - mom, sister, sister-in-law, daughter, friend, school volunteer and church volunteer among them. So I've got places to direct my energies when I need a break from thinking about my new role as a divorced-mother-of-two. It is going to be an adjustment, for sure. I'm taking things one day at a time, one decision at a time. I give myself permission to let the emotions out. I cry in the shower and put on a brave face for my kids when I get out. They don't know yet. Until my husband has a place to go, it doesn't seem necessary to tell them. I can't help but wonder how they will adjust to their new roles as children of divorced parents. I hope that in some strange way the experiences they endured in their young lives will some how help them get through this one. If we can keep our hearts and minds open to accept the other good things in our lives, I think we'll be okay.