As Christmas nears, I find myself thinking of M. Thinking about how this should have been our first Christmas as a family. Thinking about how much I loved him - or more accurately how much I loved the man I thought he was.
I did. I loved him so much. I loved him in this amazing, weak kneed, butterflies, fairytale kind of way. We were perfect together. The biggest fights we ever had were when we were getting fast food, and neither of us wanted to choose :). (Don't act like you don't/didn't have that fight with your spouse/ex... you know you did. Everyone does. lol.) We were always so affectionate.. always holding hands or cuddling. It was like that up until the very end. Even while he was having the affair.. he played the part of the perfect husband.
The first time he cheated on me was hell. We were engaged.. I found out about it 6 days before we got married. It was awful. I spent my wedding night crying instead of doing what couples normally do on their wedding nights. I barely even remember the first 3 months or so of our marriage, I was in such shock, and so incredibly, horribly depressed.
I worked so hard on getting over it though, and slowly but surely, I did. Losing the babies then overshadowed all that had happened before, and I felt that we were so close and all that was behind us.
When I married him, I knew it was highly probable that he would cheat again. "Once a cheater, always a cheater" tends to hold true the majority of the time. But I was so in love with him, I knew that if I walked away, I would always wonder if we could have made it work.
Now I know. We couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't hold his interest. And that's okay, I guess. I'm sorry that my son will never know an intact family. On the flip side, I'm grateful that it happened sooner rather than later - I'm still young, and E won't have to go through the trauma of divorce when he's old enough to know what's going on. Blessings in disguise, I guess.
But I still miss him, the man who was my husband.