Archive | July 2014

One breath at a time

Just a quick update to let you all know I’m still alive and kicking.

I truly am so grateful for all of the wonderful messages of support I have received over the last couple of weeks. I haven’t been emotionally strong enough to respond but please know that I have read those messages over and over and drawn strength from them. I read them at 2am when I can’t sleep because they keep me from crying. You guys are so amazing.

I suppose I should fill you in on how I’m going…

I’m back at work now. The girls in my team have been fantastic. They bought me flowers, always listen to me and give me hugs when I cry. They even make sure I’m eating enough food to get through each day. Not a lot of food, but enough to stop me from passing out I guess. Sometimes they manage to make me laugh. Other times I catch myself smiling at something one of them says, and I am surprised that I am still able to feel anything except despair.

Work is the only place where I feel normal. It’s a space where my husband never existed, so it’s safe. I’m supported by my co-workers and I’m busy most of the day. Sometimes I have panic attacks and have to run to the bathrooms to cry. But mostly I’m coping during business hours.

At night time I am alone. Sometimes my brother is home (he works a 24 hour rotating roster at a hospital, so he’s often away in the evenings) but usually it’s just me and the dog.

It still feels so strange to exist in the space I shared with my husband,  except he is no longer with me. It’s almost like he died. Sometimes I pretend he has died,  and it feels a little less painful because I can imagine that he still loves me and didn’t leave by choice.

At least my family are giving me my own space now. I’m pretty sure they had me on suicide watch for the first week – there was someone with me in the house at all times and even my aunts and uncles and grandparents were taking turns to babysit me.

I have spoken to my husband 3 times since he left me. Always initiated by me. Always via text message. My messages to him have been very neutral and unemotional. I have only contacted him to ask about finances. I am proud of myself for not once caving in and texting him at 3am to say my life is empty without him. He has not asked me how I am or told me anything about where he is living or what he is doing.

He is being horrible and forcing me to pay 50% of everything including the credit card and mortgage. I guess it’s his right to do this to me, but he earns more than double my wage so by splitting everything 50/50 I am now flat broke and he would be saving stacks of money each week. The girls at work say I should get a lawyer involved but I can’t afford it and more importantly I really don’t want to start world war three. I couldn’t handle it emotionally.

I have been asked out twice in the past two weeks by two different men. I also went to a birthday party last week and was outrageously hit on by a male friend of the birthday girl. I felt so confronted by his flirting that I went to the bathroom and cried then immediately left the party.

The idea of being with someone who isn’t my husband makes me physically sick. At first I couldn’t understand why so many creepy guys were circling me like vultures. It’s been years since men drooled over me. Then I realised it’s because I have stopped wearing my wedding ring.

When I politely declined the first guy who asked me out he seemed shocked by my decision and said “Geez okay…but I really like you. You’re so attractive.”

I tried to remain calm and told him that I was sure he would find a nice girl who was actually available. He then looked at me like I was silly and replied “But you’re available?”

It couldn’t have hurt me more if he’d punched me in the gut and knocked all the air out of my lungs. It was one of the first times I’d left the house since my husband walked out and suddenly I was being told directly by some sleaze that I am now single and available. It was so incredibly hurtful.

What else? Oh yes I have applied for two better paid jobs. I am also looking for others to apply for. I need to earn at least 10-15 thousand extra a year to comfortably support myself. I know I will probably have to apply for dozens before I am successful, but two is a good start. Two job applications is better than no job applications. And it shows that the fog is slowly starting to lift from my brain to allow me to make logical decisions.

Other than that I don’t really have much to report. I eat when I can stomach food, I sleep when I manage to switch my brain off, I go to the gym for an hour every night just to get the temporary dump of happy endorphins. I am existing.

I promise to update again as soon as I feel able.

Sadie xx



We shared our first kiss on a Wednesday.

We worked in office towers located two blocks away from each other in the city. Even back then he was working in a more senior role than me, and he was lucky enough to have his own parking space.

He had been my best friend for years, and that Wednesday he offered to drive me home after work. It was an offer I readily accepted because I hated catching the train. The fact he was driving me home from work was not unusual, as he drove me home quite regularly. It wasn’t unusual, except for the fact it was a Wednesday.

He always played football on Wednesday nights. It was his favourite night of the week because he loved the sport, even though he wasn’t the world’s greatest player. But he called to let me know the game had been cancelled due to inclement weather.

Much later, I found out that was a lie. The game had not been cancelled. He had given up his favourite night of the week because he had realised he was in love with me and wanted to see where his feelings were leading.

When we arrived at my house he invited himself in, which also wasn’t overly unusual. But when he sat down on my couch he was acting so jumpy and I could practically hear his heart pounding. I leaned over and gingerly placed my fingers over his carotid pulse.

It dawned on me that my proximity was the cause of his racing heart, but I wasn’t quite sure. Deciding to undertake a little experiment, I removed my fingers from his neck so that I could gently kiss the spot where they’d been. Sure enough, his pulse quickened again.

Suddenly, his mouth was on mine. Before I could even comprehend what was happening, he had flipped me so that I was lying with my back on the couch cushions, and he was on top of me. His tongue was in my mouth, his left hand was in my hair, and his right hand was creeping up my leg underneath my dress.

In our passionate stupor it briefly crossed my mind that I was being ravaged by my best friend, but I also realised that it didn’t feel weird or awkward at all. On the contrary nothing had ever felt more right. It wasn’t until that moment I realised I loved him just as much as he loved me.

We didn’t take it any further that night, because he knew I wasn’t ready. But we sat on the couch for a while, utterly tangled in each other’s arms. The moment was absolutely perfect, and I knew right then and there that he was as close to the perfect man as I was ever going to find. He was the one for me. After a while he kissed my face and moved away from me so that he could stand up.

“I have to go now.” He said. “It’s late and I have to go home. But I want you to know that even though I’m leaving, I’m not leaving you. I’ll never leave you.”

Many years later, it was a Wednesday when he broke down in front of me.

We had recently gone through our third miscarriage, and since that time he had been acting depressed and distant. But he had been so normal when he arrived at our house in the evening. He had smiled and kissed me and told me that he had felt happy when he knew it was time to come home to me.

He’d been at his physiotherapist receiving treatment for a sports injury, and he had been instructed to have a bath to help ease the tightness in his hips. I raced upstairs and filled the tub for him, pleased I could do something to help. Then, whilst he relaxed in the bath, I cooked him dinner and brought it upstairs for him.

But when he emptied the bathtub and got out, I could see his mood had changed and something was wrong. I asked him if he was okay, and he replied that he was not.

Suddenly he started crying. He told me he couldn’t handle “everything” in our lives anymore. He told me he was so traumatised he could never do an IVF cycle ever again, even though he knew that meant never becoming parents. He told me that my infertility had ruined his life. He told me that the 15 kilograms I’d put on since we started fertility treatment had made me fat and he no longer found me attractive.

After hours of tense discussions and crying, he confessed that he had never realised how much his depression was affecting me. He said he was selfish to stay in the house whilst his mood was so low, because he was taking the brunt of it out on me. And he said he didn’t want to subject me to it anymore because he loved me and wanted to protect me.

So he packed his bags, and said he was going away for a few days. He planned to stay a few nights at a friend’s house so that he could clear his head and return to me a happier man. I was devastated by his decision, but outwardly supportive. I told him I would do whatever it took to get him to a healthier and happier frame of mind.

It was a Wednesday, one week later, when he called me to let me know he was never coming home.

He explained that it wasn’t until he was gone, that he realised he never wanted to return. He said that he knew how awful it would be if he ended our relationship, but he was serving me some temporary misery to save himself a lifetime of misery.

He drove to the house then, because he said he didn’t want to end it over the phone. He didn’t appreciate me pointing out that he had already done just that. By the time he arrived I was completely hysterical.

He cried and cried, and begged me to hate him for what he was doing. I just kept sobbing and telling him that I could never hate him, only love him. I asked him to reconsider. I reminded him that we were a family and a team.

I told him that I didn’t care if we never had children, or that he was depressed. I told him that I loved him unconditionally, and nothing would ever change that.

He told me that he didn’t believe in unconditional love. That every love had conditions, and that our relationship was making him unhappy. He told me once again that he didn’t find me attractive, with a simple shrug of his shoulders. He said that he couldn’t live a life without children, but he was definitely never going through IVF ever again.

I sat on our bed and cried while he told me that I would be better off without him. He told me I should find someone who didn’t care that I was overweight and liked to eat pasta. He suggested I try speed dating, or maybe find a single dad with young children. That way, I could pretend I had kids of my own and the guy would love me for being such a great role model for his kids.

I told him I couldn’t live my life without him. I told him I would die if he left me. He said if that was the case I’d better hurry up and change my life insurance policy so that he wasn’t the beneficiary anymore. He suggested I change the beneficiary to my brother.

He told me he would always love me, but he had made up his mind that our relationship was over. And then he walked out of our house and never looked back, while I curled up in a ball and cried on the floor inside the doorway.

It has now been almost a week since I have had any contact with him. This is the longest period of time I’ve gone without speaking to him in over 8 years. I am beside myself with grief.

I started receiving overdue bills in the mail this week. He was always in charge of the financial stuff, but it turns out he wasn’t doing an overly good job of it. I’ve had to take over managing all that stuff now, even though it makes me cry.

He hasn’t used our bank accounts or credit cards to make a single purchase since he left. That makes me horrifically suspicious that he has been putting money aside, or has opened a new account at a different bank.

We currently owe almost $5000 on our joint credit card and there’s just no way I can pay that bill at the end of the month. He earns over twice my wage now, because I was deliberately working in a low paid, low stress job with good maternity benefits while we did IVF.

During the day I am strong now. I eat a little food, I am showering, and dressing myself, and cleaning my teeth and feel good about the fact he hasn’t been able to tear me down and completely destroy me.

But at night time I miss him so much I nearly make myself sick. I lie awake and wonder where he is, what he’s doing, who he is with, and why he hasn’t called to tell me he made a big mistake. If he calls me I will forgive him. I will wipe the slate clean. I will tell him I understand that things said in anger aren’t always true, and that when you’re depressed you often say things you don’t really mean.

But that phone call hasn’t come. And it won’t come. Because he has made a real effort to systematically remove me from his life. He isn’t concerned about our finances, or our jointly owned home, or even the fact I posted on Facebook that I was in a minor car accident.

Furthermore not a single one of our mutual friends has contacted me to ask if I am okay, or need help. I texted a few of them but no one responded to me. He and our friends have built a stonewall, and it looks like I’m alone on the wrong side. They have completely moved on from me. I feel like we’re back in the sixth grade at school. This is not the way grown ups behave.

It was a Wednesday when I fell in love with the man of my dreams.

It was a Wednesday when the man of my dreams broke my heart and walked out on me.

And do you know what? It’s Wednesday tomorrow.

I’m terrified of what that means. Of what may come.

I used to love Wednesdays; now I hate them.

I guess you could say Wednesday ruined my life.

The moments after

He left the house for the last time just after 10.30pm on Wednesday night, to start the hour long drive back to the friend’s house where he has been staying for the past 12 days.

I lay on the floor near the front door and cried until I vomited.

While I was lying on that cold floor contemplating death and desperately hoping my husband would come back to me, he was sitting in his car in the dark changing his Facebook password.


I know this is the least of my worries, and I know that his Facebook profile isn’t my business anymore, but holy hell this makes me feel like I have been stabbed right through the heart.

Whilst I sobbed on the floor he was making rational decisions. He was being so callous and petty he even felt the need to change his Facebook password just minutes after walking out on me.

For what purpose? To completely wipe me from his life? To prove to me that I mean nothing to him?

What does that say about him? About me? About what he thinks of me? And about our relationship?

This is proof that he really doesn’t care at all and he is truly never returning to me.

Who is this man? He is not the man who vowed to love me forever. The man who used to hold me close when I couldn’t sleep at night and whisper “It’s okay baby I’ve got you and I’m never letting go.” This is not the man I still dream about whenever I close my eyes.

My heart is breaking all over again.

My twisted nightmare

It’s Saturday night.

Where is my husband?

Is he headed out to a club tonight with his mates? Is he living up the single life?

I logged into our bank account today and noticed that the day after he left me he joined a new gym on the other side of the city. That’s not something you do when you’re devastated and grieving. That’s something you do when you’re ready to move on with your life.

Is he going to go to a bar tonight? Is he going to get drunk? Is he going to meet a pretty girl and offer to buy her a drink?

Will he make her laugh and then put his hand on her shoulder to pull her closer?

While I lie in our bed, immersed in the sheets that really don’t even smell like him anymore, will he take this woman to his new bed?

Will he kiss her mouth and love the taste of someone new? Will he feel liberated when he is inside her? Will I be a distant memory, or will he be pleased with how much better sex is with her? Will he be thinking that he should have tried an upgraded model years ago?

I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t shake this nightmare. I can’t believe this scenario is even a possibility. But I know that it is.

Especially because the friend he is currently living with split from his fiance recently, and then immediately went out and slept with someone else to shake off the last remnants of his relationship. What if he has encouraged my husband to do the same?

I feel sick to my stomach.

Where is my husband? And more importantly how can I live the rest of my life knowing that his whereabouts aren’t my business anymore?

An honest account of heartbreak

It’s now past midday on Friday.

I haven’t eaten or had anything to drink since Wednesday morning, save for the two spoonfuls of spinach my mother forced into my mouth last night. She keeps telling me if I don’t eat I will get a stomach ulcer. I asked her if stomach ulcers induce death, but apparently (and unfortunately) they don’t.

I am yet to leave my bed, except to occassionally get up to use the master bathroom. And here’s something handy about not drinking anything – you don’t have to pee too often.

For the most part I have stopped talking. I had to email my boss and let her know I won’t be coming in to work for the next little bit because I couldn’t call and tell her verbally. I just don’t have the energy to form words. And what’s the point in talking anymore? Nothing is worth talking about now he’s gone.

I know I stink and need to shower and brush my teeth. I’m sure if I looked in the mirror my hair would be a greasy, matted mess. I can feel my lips are dry and cracked. I’m positive I have sickly, sunken eyes.

My family are all here. My father mowed the lawns yesterday and tended to the gardens. My brother keeps coming into my room and opening all the curtains and windows to entice me out of bed. My mother brings me a new cup of tea every hour. She places it on my nightstand and removes the cup she left the previous hour. I never touch them but she still keeps bringing them.

I have stopped taking my medications. Even the ones I need to be on regardless of whether I’m planning on doing more fertility treatment. I am probably going to make myself sick. But I don’t even care.

I don’t even want to think about the financial ramifications of him leaving. We will have to sell our beautiful house. The one we bought only 7 months ago. The place where we planned to raise our children.

I lie on his side of the bed. The sheets are really dirty but I can’t bring myself to change them, because these are sheets we slept on together before he left me. These are the last sheets that will ever smell like him. His hot water bottle is still at the end of the bed, under the sheets. He used it to warm the bed up at night. I touch it with my feet and I try to pretend he is still with me. I have to ignore the fact the water bottle is freezing cold now because he isnt coming back to put more hot water in it.

Sometimes I sleep. I like it when I’m asleep, because I get to dream about him. I get to pretend he didn’t abandon me. I can hold him and talk to him and make him laugh. But then I wake up and I’m forced to realise all over again that he is gone.

That he is never coming back.

After he phoned me to tell me it was over, he drove to the house because he said he didn’t want to end it over the phone.

I cried and cried. I begged him at least one hundred times to stay and work things out. I told him he was more important to me than having a baby and I didn’t care if we never did IVF again. But he insisted I would hate and resent him if I made that choice. Even worse, he said he refused to live without children and because I can’t have them without IVF it could never work between us. Because he was never, ever, ever doing IVF ever again.

He said no. Every time I begged him to reconsider he said no. No no no no no.

And then he pushed me away from him and said “Why would you even want to be with someone who doesn’t want to be with you?”

And that’s when I knew I had lost him. I knew he wasn’t going to change his mind.

When he left the house I lay on the floor and cried harder than I have ever cried in my whole life. I cried until I vomited up bile.

What went wrong? We were supposed to be a family. We had made plans for retirement. Why wasn’t I enough for him?

For so many years I went to sleep every night with his arms wrapped around me, secure in the knowledge he would always be there to protect me and support me and love me. He was my everything.

Whenever anything bad happened – even something little like if one of us made a mistake at work or forgot to put the bins out on bin night – we would say to each other “We are a team and as long as we stick together it doesn’t matter what the world throws at us. We can handle anything because we are together.”

We would say it almost every day. We are a team. We are a team.

There is no “I” in team. But I am an “I” now. I am not a “we” anymore. I don’t know if I can ever be a “we” again. When I love someone I love them unconditionally and for life.

How do I move on from this? I can’t move on from him. I can’t function without him. I can’t believe he hasn’t contacted me to tell me he’s sorry and he made a mistake.

My family tell me I am better off without him. They say I am only 28 and I have plenty of time to find someone who will treat me better. Someone who will love me unconditionally. Someone who won’t run away and abandon me. Someone who digs his heels in when times get tough,  and carries me when I’m not able to walk through the dark maze of infertility.

But they are wrong. I only want him. I don’t know how to go on living my life without him and I don’t want to try. Why is he making me do this? Why is he making me do this? Why is he making me do this?

I don’t want to do this.

My husband has left me

He told me that my infertility has ruined his life, and he left me.

He said he was going away for a few days to give me a break from his constant depression. The depression that has consumed him since we lost our last baby.

But now, more than a week later, he informs me over the phone that he can’t come back because he can’t return to the infertility and IVF and miscarriages. He’s done. He’s reached his quota. He is bowing out.

He told me he will always love me, that I’m his best friend and he really did want us to grow old together, but he can’t ever deal with fertility treatment again. He said he can’t live a life without children, and he knows I can’t either. So we are no longer able to be together.

I haven’t eaten or slept in a week. As if infertility, 8 cycles of IVF and three pregnancy losses weren’t enough punishment. Now my fucking awful reproductive system has cost me happiness with the only man I have ever loved.

When I lie awake at night I find myself hoping a violent burglar will break into our house and murder me. I am all alone here and maybe no one would even find my body for days. I imagine my bruised and bloodied body slowly decomposing on the kitchen tiles.

Why is this happening to me? Oh God why is this happening to me? What the fuck did I do to deserve this?

My heart is shattered.

My dreams are crushed.

I don’t know what else to say.