We hadn't planned on a third. Honestly, I had always pictured three, but he discouraged it. He would always say he was too old for more babies, and I knew to be grateful for two healthy kids. My youngest was not yet 2, the studio kept me incredibly busy, so I could come to terms with being done. I repeatedly asked him to schedule a vasectomy (our kids were actually the products of a reversal, so he had gone through it before) as I had been the one to take birth control and physically bear both kids, so I felt like my body had done her part and it was his turn.
I literally took the tests (yes, plural) because I was late but "just knew" I couldn't be pregnant. I planned to call my doctor in the morning with a "I'm late but I'm not pregnant" request for an appointment, but the test was positive. Two more tests confirmed the first one. It was a week before Christmas. He was at work, so I thought it would be funny to leave them on the bathroom vanity. He always showered as soon as he got home from the restaurant, so I knew he would see them when he walked in our bathroom. It was a late night, so I got the kids to bed and waited for him. He got home, spoke to me, and walked into the bathroom. I waited excitedly for some kind of a response, and then....nothing. I heard him open the shower door, turn on the water, and close the shower door. What in the world? The water then turned off, the door opened and I knew he had to have seen them. I couldn't wait any longer. I ran to the bathroom, opened the door, and asked, "Did you see them?!?"
"Yeah."
"Ummmm, ok - anything you want to say?"
"Not really."
As we moved into spring, he got busier and busier at work and more & more distant from me. I would try to talk to him about it, asking if he was more stressed, if he was upset, maybe he was depressed. He was working and traveling ALL THE TIME, and when he was home he was in his phone. The months went on and my mental health began to take a massive nose-dive. I felt anxious, alone, overwhelmed, sad, and like I had lost my partner. After talking to my doctor, I decided to start taking antidepressants. I knew I couldn't fall apart - I was the kids' constant. She turned 17 three days after the prescription was written, but I was "crazy" for thinking that he was mad at me, avoiding me, or not attracted to me.
The next year was unlike anything I could have ever, ever imagined. The pain, the lies, the deceit - I couldn't fathom treating a stranger the way I was about to be treated.
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