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.